


Let Me Drown Slowly

by fruityoatey_bahhh



Category: One Direction, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bottom Louis, Bottom Zayn, M/M, Prostitute Harry, Prostitute Liam, Top Harry, Top Liam, larry - Freeform, larry stylinson - Freeform, ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-05 03:18:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 59,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4163685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruityoatey_bahhh/pseuds/fruityoatey_bahhh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn doesn't go out of his way to look for call boys. He doesn't go looking for call boys, period. When Liam comes into his life, everything becomes blurry and skewed, and all Zayn wants to do is learn how to avoid what he feels.</p><p>Or, the one where Liam's a prostitute, and Zayn just wants to be kept warm at night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I clearly remember asking for nonfat creamer.”

The voice was nasally, with an American lilt to it, and when he turned, slicked-back blonde hair, a novelty floral printed shirt, like one that could be purchased at an airport, and an orange tan that clearly came out of a bottle was the first sight to greet Zayn then. _Irritating_   _customer number one, and counting_ , he thought.

Zayn internally resisted the urge to dry heave on the counter, and plastered on a smile, clearly of sarcastic intent. “I’m sorry it wasn’t up to your standard, would you like me to make it again?”

The man gave him something of a startled look, a crease drawing between his eyebrows as he frowned. “Well, yeah. But, like, why don’t you just, like, I don’t know, make it right the first time? I walked up here just a few minutes ago, and I clearly asked, like-”

_Fucking tourist_.

He stared at the man, eyes glazed over, while he finished the caramel steamer he was working on, slipped on the lid, and scrawling the name Olivia on the side in thick, black sharpie. He gave the American a polite smile, with a quick ‘excuse me’, and handed the drink off to Mark, one of the many baristas working there who thought working at the local campus coffee shop meant taking thirteen smoke breaks a day, and a whole lot of sitting for the rest of it. He at least made himself useful by setting the cup on the pickup counter, liquid sloshing over the sides.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Zayn asked, once he’d approached the counter, turning his full attention to the man who’d decided to grace him with his oh-so-cheery presence.

Floral-shirt gave him a wrinkled nose in response, “I said I’d like a new one. Milk that’s not nonfat doesn’t agree with my salmon and soy diet.’’

Zayn chose not to mention the fact that milk that was nonfat didn’t make it soy. It was more fun this way.

When Zayn wasn’t working five nights a week at the cafe, just about a quarter of a mile from the campus boundaries, he was in class, scrambling to finish up the last remnants of his second year of University. When he wasn’t drooling on himself in class, he was drooling on Louis’s couch.

They didn’t formally live together.

Zayn had a dorm on campus, one that he shared with the quarterback of the football team, who stood at about five feet, ten inches tall, brunette, and about as much of a dick as the stereotype would predict.

So, Zayn holed himself up in Louis’ flat, instead. He paid for a quarter of the rent, helped restock the fridge, and every great once in a while, helped with chores.

 

It was dark by the time Zayn finished his shift.

He scrubbed the sheen of milk and espresso off his arms, hung up his apron, helped sweep up the establishment, smacking Niall, another coworker, with the broom on the arse every now and then.

 

 

Just for kicks.

He slung his shoulderbag over his arm, before stepping out into the crisp, cool autumn air. He loved fall for the changing leaves, but the cold was shitty.

He pulled a hood over his head, and took a left turn, down the alley that was the shortcut between the inner city and the complex where he and Louis lived. The worst he really ran into on his nightly treks home were the odd homeless person or two, and they were never really much to worry about.

He ducked his head down against the wind, as he strolled down the path to their shared flat, wrapping his hand around the doorknob to give it a twist. The door turned about a centimeter, before stopping.

He frowned down at the knob.

Louis never locked the door.

He didn’t really think about knocking, before reaching down for his pocket to fumble around for his keys, slotting the house key into the lock, before giving a twist.

Letting himself in, he dropped his bag on the floor, and shrugged out of his over coat. Knocking was common courtesy for most people, really, but Zayn didn’t really give two shits about that. It was too cold out.

“Louis, why the fuck did you lock the door? My balls are literally almost-- _Oh_ my god-”

He didn’t know how he’d missed the moaning, because frankly, there was a lot of it, and it wasn’t exactly quiet. Just a litany of, “Fuckfuckfuck, right _there,_ Harry-”

Up until Zayn had walked in.

Right in on Louis sprawled out on the couch, legs wrapped tightly around the torso of some lanky brunette, who’s face was buried in the crook of his neck, hips working relentlessly, and--no, Zayn could not stand another second witnessing that.

He didn’t miss the angered and horrified look that Louis shot him as he pushed at the boy’s shoulders, trying to get him to stop, and when he did, the boy on top of Louis merely just fucking smiled over at where Zayn once he’d noticed him, like this was the most normal fucking occurrence. Like walking in on someone who was drinking tea, or some shit.

Zayn smacked a hand over his eyes, turning away from the horror scene laid out in front of him.

“What _the fuck_ , Zayn!”  

“I’m sorry! Shit, I...why didn’t you fucking call, at least?” he demanded, free hand scraping around blindly for the wall.

From the sound of shuffling, and a muffled, “Ow, Lou, my elbow.”, Louis was scrambling out from underneath the other boy. Named Harry, apparently.

Zayn’s hand missed the wall by a few meters, but his face sure didn’t. With a sickening crunch, he felt pain flare up his whole nasal area, and he was staggering back a couple paces from the impact.

“Fucking _christ_.” he swore, doubling over as tears prickled the corners of his eyes.

“Shit, are you okay?” he heard Louis ask, maybe a bit less hostile. He turned just in time to see Louis slipping on a pair of boxers, and rush over to him in an instant, laying a hand on his back.

“No offense, mate, but I don’t know where your hand has been, and-”

“Oh, christ, relax. You’re fucking _bleeding_ , Zayn. And let’s not pretend that you haven’t had your fingers shoved up-”

“Louis, shut the fuck up.” Zayn groaned, actually crying at this point, tears running hot and heavy down his cheeks. “I don’t know if I broke it, or what, but it fucking hurts.” he added, finally allowing himself to stand up, feeling blood drip down his shirt. His nice white shirt.

“Let me see.”

The voice didn’t come from Louis, but the other boy, voice deep and slow.

He wanted to wrinkle his nose as the boy approached, tall enough to be maybe just a bit intimidating, but also, the image of him practically power-fucking his way into Louis was apparently on replay in his head, like some abject horror scene from a movie. He could practically hear the violin strings.

“No, I’m okay, really, I just-’’

“Trust me, I’ve seen plenty of broken noses in my time.” Harry chuckled, having at least the decency enough to skip past Zayn, and walk his way into the kitchen, soaping and washing his hands in record time. In just a matter of moments, he was propped up in front of Zayn again, tilting his chin up to get a closer look at his face.

He had a small wrinkle between his eyebrows as he tilted Zayn’s face this way, and that, letting out a grunt of acknowledgement when he seemed satisfied by his inspection.

“It’s not broken. I think you just hit it pretty good.” he said, wincing sympathetically. “Worst case scenario, you’ll have a bit of bruising down your nose, possibly under your eyes as well. It’s probably going to hurt a lot more in just a bit here, take something for the pain.”

Zayn blinked, “You some sort of nurse, or something?”

Harry laughed, voice rough, as he brushed a few stray curls out of his face. “No, not a nurse. I know what I’m dealing with though.”

And Zayn decided to leave it at that.

“Do you guys have any tampons lying around?”

Louis and Zayn eyed each other, before turning back to Harry.

“Do we look like menstruating women?” Louis deadpanned, reaching out to give the boy a pat on the arm.

Harry laughed again. This kid found everything _fucking amusing_ , apparently. “I saw it on _Sex and the City_ once. Just trust me. They're useful for more than just periods. Zayn’ll need some ice too, probably.”

Louis blinked again, looking very much like he thought Harry was out of his fucking mind, maybe questioning why on earth he shagged someone who actually watched _Sex and the City_ , before shrugging. “I’ll go see if my sister left a box in the bathroom, or something.” he murmured, before hobbling off.

Zayn cursed under his breath as another bout of heated pain ran down his nose, and more blood dripped between his lips. Lovely.

“Who are you, anyway?” he asked, barely able to keep the annoyance out of his voice. The pain made him irritable.

Harry laughed, walking over to pull on a pair of black skinny jeans and a button-up. “Friend of Louis’, I suppose.”

Zayn lifted an eyebrow, doing his best not to move any part of his nose in the process. “A friend? Mate, I’m friends with him, and I definitely don’t remember you being in the picture.’’

Harry gave him an inquisitive look, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. “I can’t tell who’s sassier yet, you or Lou.”

Zayn inwardly resists the urge to roll his eyes, because honestly he didn’t think he could handle it right then. “We feed off of each other, I know this.” he huffed, choosing to end the conversation there when he heard Louis shuffling back into the room, dangling an unwrapped tampon by the string.

“Looks like it’s your lucky day, my friend.” he murmured, handing it off to Harry. “I’ll let you handle this, since...well, I don’t know where the hell you’re planning to jam that thing, so…”

Harry walked over to the knife holder in their kitchen, pulling out the scissors, and snipping the tampon in half.

“This might hurt, just a touch.” he murmured, lip caught between his teeth as he turned back to Zayn, carefully raising both ends of the tampon to Zayn’s nostrils, pushing them in slowly.

Zayn bit back another wave of pain, feeling utterly fucking ridiculous with both ends of a tampon dangling from his nose, string and all. “Gee, thanks.” he mumbled, going straight for the fridge to grab a beer.

He thought he deserved a drink. For all the trauma.

“Right, I’ve got to take off probably. Might have another shift.” he heard Harry mumble, casting Zayn a wary glance, before leaning down to whisper something in Louis’ ear. It was probably the first time Zayn saw Louis’ cheeks go pink, but lots of things were happening today that weren’t ever supposed to happen.

With one last shit-eating grin, directed mainly at Louis before leaning in to press a kiss to his lips--not even a nice slow kiss, or a nice-seeing-you-again kiss, but a “I-want-to-bend-you-over-this-countertop” kiss, tongue and all--he gave Zayn one small informal salute, before ducking out the door.

The door swung shut, leaving both Louis and Zayn in silence.

“What the fuck was that, may I ask?” Zayn finally spoke, hissing as he went to wrinkle his nose.

“Mate, I sent you a text, a text, telling you not to come to the flat, but clearly you’ve forgotten how to use a phone. Or the art of knocking.” he shot back, going over to pull his clothes on.

Zayn shook his head, carefully resting the body of his beer glass against the bridge of his nose, wincing at how tender it felt. “I was at work, sorry. Who was that kid, anyway? Didn’t take you for the boyfriend type.” he teased, although he didn’t dare attempt to smile.

“Please, fucking does not equate to boyfriend. He’s just a boy.” he said, walking over to cross into the kitchen, plucking an ice pack from the freezer, and dropping it into Zayn’s hand. “Went out to pick up some groceries, and I ran into him. Turns out, I wanted to bang him, too.’’ he said, shooting him a pleased smirk.

Zayn rolled his eyes, pressing the ice pack to his nose, before taking three long gulps. “Right. Sorry for robbing you of your orgasm.”

Louis glanced up then, like he’d completely forgotten about not getting to his climax. “Yeah. You’re right. Fuck you, mate. I was close, too.”

Zayn wanted to gag at that, and with all the blood he’d swallowed between now and then, he might just throw up right there. “Right, and with that thought, I’m taking something for the pain, and going to bed. The image of your hairy arse is going to haunt me for the rest of my life.”

“Awe, I’m so glad. Love you, too.” Louis said, no lack of sarcasm in his voice as he leaned in to press a kiss to Zayn’s cheek, and reached down to give his bum a light squeeze. “Sweet dreams, tampon boy.”

Zayn swatted him on the side of the head, and forced himself to drag his feet all the way down to the spare bedroom he occupied. It was small and cramped, but it met his needs well enough.

He dropped his beer on the bedside table, and headed off towards the bathroom, small and mildew-y.

He felt a little nauseated at the amount of blood staining his lips, teeth, and mouth/nose area, but once he’d sloshed water over his face, he was fairly satisfied afterwards, save for the big, indigo bruise forming over the small-ish bump on his nose, and the yellow-ish bruise forming just under his eyes. Just lovely. He’d be all puffy and swollen for class tomorrow.

Or he’d just not go at all, and sleep the day off. It was much more appealing.

He took a swig of mouthwash, rinsing out the last taste of salty iron from his mouth, before running a hand through his hair in the mirror. He flicked the light switch off, and turned on his heel to head for his bedroom again, nudging the door shut with his foot.

He forgot all about taking painkillers, but by the time his head hit the pillow, and he could focus on something other than the horrific memory of Harry fucking Louis like there was no bloody tomorrow, he found sleep to be quite easy, and drifted off in a matter of seconds.

\-----

Zayn wrung his t-shirt out over the sink, in an attempt to squeeze out as much steamed milk and blood as possible.

Work had been eventful that day.

A customer stood at the counter for five minutes, yelling at Zayn for the watery content of their caramel mocha macchiato, and honestly, it’s not his fault that ice melted so fast on a hot day. He almost lost it right then, having lost a significant amount of sleep the night before, trying to tune out the white noise from the TV.

He didn’t know why he wasn’t sleeping.

It had been almost a week since he’d face planted into his own wall, and his nose had seemingly healed for the most part. The throbbing pain of it wasn’t keeping him up anymore, but something was.

Somewhere between listening to the complaints of the twat in front of him and doing his best to mix together a hibiscus and papaya tea lemonade, and honestly, whoever came up with these ridiculous flavors deserved to be punched, he’d elbowed a glass coffee pot full of hot milk, sending it skittering off the counter, where it ended up in pieces on the floor, but not before sending hot milk splattering down the side of his shirt, pants, and soaking one shoe.

Needless to say, the customer was directed to someone else, and Niall was pulling Zayn away from the counter, back to the employee lounge. It wasn’t so much a lounge, as a room with a used coffee table and metal folding chairs, a series of lockers on one wall, a microwave and a shitty TV on the other, and motivational posters, defining what it truly meant to be a team player, or something along those lines.

So, Zayn wound up borrowing a “We Value Our Employees” shirt, and a pair of sandals left by the last guy who quit.

He ended up tossing his shirt, not caring too much about it anymore. He'd almost decided to toss his pants, since one half had probably been soiled just as much as his shirt and shoes had, and the idea of smelling like sour milk and feeling sticky for the next half hour was unappealing enough. He grit his teeth, and decided to buck up and deal with it, before gathering up his things, and starting his trek home.

It had been that kind of day.

Lost somewhere in his head, he took something of a wrong turn, ending up in the outer city limits. He passed through throngs of men and women, hanging off each other, staggering in and out of seedy clubs and venues.

 

He forgot it was a Friday night.

 

He envied when he had all the time in the world and then some. Nights where he'd let Louis drag him downtown, and take him club hopping. Nights where Zayn would get maybe a few numbers, and at least one girl willing to take him home, so he could let Louis have their flat for his hook-ups.

He pulled his hood up over his head, standing on the street corner for a moment, trying to figure out where on earth he’d managed to get himself lost, and whether or not to tempt his luck and find his own way back, or call someone to come pick him up.

He chose the former out of poor judgment, and took a turn down one street. Then another. He started passing strange faces and even stranger places, until the clubs started getting seedier, and the quantity of people started thinning. He was just pulling out his phone to call for a cab, when--

“Please, you couldn’t afford me.”

The deep, silky voice had him stopping in his tracks. It’d been a couple of days, but he knew that voice. Definitely.

“Right. I forgot you catered to the upper class now.” another voice spoke, maybe not as deep, but just as smooth. Gentler, if just a little. “What’s the age pool on that today, fifties? Sixties?”

Zayn couldn’t help himself. He ventured just a bit further, peeking his head around a brick wall that veered off into an alley.

And...there he was. Dark, curly hair, dressed in a form-fitting black t-shirt and the same skinny black jeans that had been draped over Zayn’s coffee table, not even a week ago.

 

Harry.

The boy next to him had his face shrouded from Zayn’s sight, and his back turned, but he was _built_ , shirt fitting nicely around each little wave of muscle and the lines of his back.

“It’s a constant stream of forty-somethings, who are rich, married, unhappy, and looking for a nice fling on the side. Perfect audience.” He heard Harry laugh, arms folding across his chest.

 

  
Zayn ducked back behind the wall, nearly jumping out of his fucking bones when he felt a tap on the arm.

He whirled around, eyes scooping up to land on a man with a gentle smile, mid- to late fifties judging by the grey undertones in his hair.

“Didn’t mean to startle you, sweetheart.” He said, lips pulling into a kind smile, maybe edging with a bit of desperation.

Zayn’s eyebrows creased a bit, before shaking his head. “No, no no, you’re fine. I was just, erm-”

“Not busy?” The man ventured.

What was he insinuating?

Zayn narrowed his eyes. Behind him, the talking had ceased for the most part. “...No. Not particularly busy at the moment.” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

That alone seemed to make the man’s expression lift just a bit. “Good. For me, I think.”

Zayn stared at him for a minute.

He scooted to the side when two men went to pass them, one younger and a little more dressed up, leading an older gentlemen by the hand. The older man gave Zayn a considering look as he passed, and the way his eyes traveled down the expanse of Zayn’s body was more primal and carnal than Zayn liked.

It clicked then.

The conversation between Harry and his...friend. The clusters of men wandering in groups, casting each other with _that look_ , that needy, desperate look only given to those who you undressed with your eyes, the look that Zayn would flash pretty girls when he was maybe just a little too sloshed on rum and vodka.

“Dude, I’m...no, _God no_ , I’m not….just-”

“Zayn?’’

He whirled around, yet again at the mention of his name, knowing that he'd been caught. Harry and his friend both stood there now, apparently having come out of hiding upon hearing the conversation, Harry with a little crease between his eyebrows. The friend just stared at him with these big brown eyes that seemed almost out of place and too gentle compared to the rest of him. His amused little smirk definitely told otherwise. Zayn felt heat flood through his core, finally peeling his eyes away from the boy.

“Harry.” He said, stepping away from the retiree, most like, in front of him, feeling fight-or-flight kicking in. He didn’t feel like fighting so much as he felt like fucking _darting_ his way out of there. “What’re--’s weird, running into you here. Where...what are you doing here?” he spluttered, folding his arms across his chest in an attempt to look casual.

 

He probably looked fucking stupid.

Harry’s lips pulled up to just barely emulate a smirk, although it wasn’t directed at him. He reached past Zayn to shake the fifty-something’s hand. “My friend here is a little busy tonight.” he said, clapping Zayn on the arm for emphasis. “But I’m sure if you head down the corridor here, one of the other boys could satisfy your interests. There's quite a variety, I believe.”

The man glanced at Zayn again, and maybe it was wrong of Zayn to feel just a little smug at the look of disappointment that crossed over the man’s face. Still, he smiled at the three of them, before ducking past to head down the alleyway.

When Harry turned back to him, his expression was not nearly as pleasant. “What are you doing here?” he asked, keeping his voice low as he fixed Zayn with a look that told him he was definitely _not_ wanted here.

 

Zayn frowned up at him, taking a small step backwards. “I’m going home. I got a little turned around.”

“No shit.” The friend murmured.

Harry barely paid the friend any attention, still frowning, more out confusion, Zayn gathered. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Does Louis know about this?” Zayn piped up finally, lifting a brow.

Both of Harry’s eyebrows shot up past where his hair hung limply in his face. “How do you think he and I met?” he asked, arms crossing over his chest as he shot Zayn a dubious look. “We didn’t lock eyes across the room at a romantic piano bar. He didn't flash his eyes at me, and suddenly had me swooning. We didn't meet at a play, or a halftime show, or even a club. He crossed over the campus limits, and wandered into this little sector of the town. Came to me. For sex. A total stranger.”

Zayn’s jaw didn’t seem to want to close.

That was just-- It wasn’t possible.

 

There was no way in hell.

 

“No. Louis would never do that. He wouldn't pay for something as frivolous as sex. One, he's kind of broke, like me, and two, he wouldn't have the balls to do it.” he snorted, shaking his head in disbelief.

Harry’s lips curled up into a full-on grin, “Well, I didn’t make him pay, really. Gave him kind of a discount.”

“What kind of discount?”

“The ‘thank-you-for-not-being-an-old-pervert’ discount. Kinda just wanted to get him into bed.”

The friend snorted from behind him, choking back something of a laugh. “Not very professional.”

Harry finally turned to acknowledge his friend.

 

Hooker.

 

Hooker friend.

 

Did they have time for friends?

 

“Liam here,” he said, reaching out to pull the brunet boy over by the cuff of his t-shirt, “...-is all sour because his nine o'clock never showed up. Don’t take his japes too personally.”

Zayn turned his eyes to Liam finally, not sure why he was a little surprised to see that the boy was looking back at him, expression completely unreadable. Warmth seemed to seep through Zayn's fingers, despite the chill in the air.

“Right. I--Right. I’m just...I should go. Louis is expecting me home, probably.” he said, averting his eyes downwards, before clearing his throat. He glanced back up after a moment, the two of them still just standing there. Staring. Like Zayn was the one imposing, or something.

“Yeah. You probably should. Can’t imagine you’re exactly seasoned on this part of town.” Harry smirked, reaching out to pat Zayn on the arm. “Your nose is looking better, by the way. Almost didn't recognize you not covered and choking on your own blood. Tell Lou I said hello, if you would.”

Zayn probably wouldn’t.

“Yeah. Okay.” Zayn spoke finally, letting out a whoosh of air, stepping back a few paces. He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Stay, erm-...safe? I guess? With, you know, protection. Yeah. Put on a fucking jacket too, Jesus, it’s _freezing_.” he said, glancing over Harry and Liam, bare arms and everything.

Harry choked out a laugh, backing away casually. “Thanks for the expert advice. Go home. Try not to wander down here again, some of the clients get the wrong impression.” He said, before sauntering off.

Liam didn’t move anywhere. Just kind of stood. _Staring._ It annoyed Zayn to no end.

Zayn stared back, eyebrows furrowed, “Yeah, can I help you?” he asked, not meaning for it to come off as snippy as it sounded.

Liam’s eyebrows lifted up, before letting out a shortened laugh. “No, just enjoying your little adventure.”

“Glad it’s entertaining for you.” He deadpanned. “Don’t you have, you know...a client? Somewhere? I know I smell like old milk and sweat, so I can’t imagine standing around with me and my lovely new scent is exactly satisfying. Not in the ‘I-just-had-an-orgasm’ kind of way.”

He watched a smile pull at Liam’s lips although the boy made no move to leave. “Well, when an older gentleman decides to cum on you, it’s-”

“No, no no _nono,_ believe me when I say that I really _don’t_ want to listen to what your job entails. I’m not a prude, but, yeah...just no.” Zayn faked a gag, before hugging his jacket closer to himself. “How are you not fucking freezing? I’m assuming your balls are fairly important for your job, and all, and I can’t imagine they’d be much use if they shrivelled up and fell off.”

He had to swallow back his own smile as Liam laughed, head tilted back, eyelids pressed shut, as a deep seated laugh left his mouth. “You’re very refreshing.” he said once he’d caught his breath, stepping in just a bit closer before leaning his side against the wall.

Zayn caught just a whiff of him then, a sharp, slightly sweet smell. Something that sent a shudder through his skin. He was sure boys like Liam needed to freshen themselves up on nights like this though. He imagined Friday nights were fairly busy for his kind.

“Refreshing? Tell that to Louis, he’d get a kick out of that.” he scoffed, chewing his lip as he took in Liam’s stance. The boy was maybe just an inch or so taller than him, but he seemed like he was feet taller with the way he tipped his head downwards ever so slightly, just to talk to Zayn. “Speaking of whom, I, uhm...I need to get home. He might worry. Emphasis on the word ‘might.’”

Liam cracked a smile at that, tilting his head to the side. He gave Zayn a considering look. “I can call you a cab, if you want.” he offered.

“You’re very thoughtful for a hooker.” Zayn mused.

“Sex worker, I prefer. Call boy could even work.” Liam replied. “Can’t just leave you out to wander this part of town, though. Everyone will want to take you home.”

Zayn wasn’t sure if that was a compliment, or what, but as soon as the words left Liam’s mouth, he felt color pool into his cheeks. He was sure Liam knew how to charm the pants off of anybody, literally. It was kind of a necessity for his job. Maybe it was just a reflex or habit to flirt recklessly for him at this point.

“I’m not the call boy. They can’t.”

“With the way you look, they won’t know that.” he smiled, reaching out to brush a strand of hair off of Zayn’s forehead. “You’re pretty. They like pretty. You’d attract quite the client base, I think.”

Zayn felt his face flush at the contact. His fingers were icy cold, which made sense, since it was the middle of fucking fall, and this kid was wearing a thin, cotton t-shirt. _Stupid_. “I’m not here to be recruited, but I appreciate the gesture.”

Liam shook his head, “I'm not trying to recruit you. Unclench.” he snickered, hand dropping down to give him a couple claps on the shoulder, before dropping back down to his side altogether. “Wouldn’t mind seeing more of you, though. If the rest of you is as pretty as your face, congrats, I have to say.” 

“I’m not gay.” Zayn immediately shot back. Liam, though. _Liam_. He kind of welcomed the attention from him. Drank it up, as he gave it.

His lips curled up into a smile, “Nobody around here claims they are, but they always leave their wives at home to come up and see me for an evening.”

“I’m not married.”

“I’m not saying that you have to be. I’d hope not, anyway. Cheating is an awful thing, but I make a whole lot of money off of it.” He said, shrugging indifferently. “My schedule just blew wide open.” He added, eyes wide and blinking.

“But," He paused, "-but-”

“But, but.” Liam imitated.

Zayn rolled his eyes. "Hilarious. I just...I don’t..." he stammered, trying to think of anything to put into words, "I’m not-”

“Gay, I know. You said that.” Liam’s eyes flickered up above briefly, before back down to Zayn’s face. “Look, gay, straight, bi, whatever, we’re built the same way. I know what guys like, how they work. How to make them feel good.” he said, pausing for a moment to reach out and tug at one of the drawstrings on Zayn’s hoodie. “It’s not about sexuality. Just physicality. You can fuck someone in the evening, and in the daytime, go pursue your future girlfriend-slash-wife. I’m not in the business of emotion.”

It all sounded so clinical when Liam put it like that. It was just sex.

And then he remembered that an actual, real-life _prostitute_ was propositioning him for _gay sex_. And all of his barriers built back up again.

“I can’t afford you. Starving uni student, and all.” he said, taking a deep breath in, deep breath out. He felt jittery all over.

“I don’t remember asking for money.”

Zayn opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “No, I don’t want you to starve along with me. One starving person is better than two. Go find some geriatric to pay you generously for a hand job, or something.”

Liam folded his arms across his chest, a smile pulling at one corner of his mouth. “I resent the insinuation.”

“I heard you and Harry talking, you both bed geriatrics.” Zayn deadpanned, playing along.

“Please, fifty is hardly geriatric.”

“You’re right. Fifty-five is probably what qualifies a geriatric.”

“Very funny.” Liam clucked, hooking his index finger in one of Zayn’s belt loops, tugging him a bit closer. “I like funny. Makes foreplay more exciting.” He breathed, leaning in just a bit closer than what would be considered within social norms.

Zayn was buying right into it.

The night was cold, and even with the slight chill in Liam’s skin, he found himself leaning in to his warmth, drinking in his smell, his charisma, his charm. Anything.

“You’re kind of presumptuous. Pretty sure I’m going to sleep with you, huh?”

“I am.” Liam nodded, “I think I’ve delivered the hook well enough. I’m hoping it will take.”

Zayn eyed him, completely drowned out in his smell, and how his finger had gone from tangling itself in his belt loop to tracing the strip of skin that his shirt wasn’t covering, leaving heat in it’s wake, and a stirring in his groin. “And...you’re honestly fine not getting paid? Like-...that’s just something you’re okay with?”

Liam smiled at that. “I’m really not into bragging, but I've made more this week than you probably have in the last six months. Maybe even the past year. I can afford to go one night without profiting financially.”

Zayn wondered why the fuck this kid wasn’t living in a mansion, and retired. He could be investing, or...doing something else profitable.

Zayn had never been insecure with himself. He knew who he was, he was proud of it, on good days, and whether or not people thought he was straight or gay, it was never something that freaked him out. One of his mates growing up had turned out to be a she instead of a he, his childhood friend Leah wound up kissing girls instead of boys, and when he met Louis, he almost wasn’t surprised to find out that the boy liked boys. A lot. Acceptance was always just ingrained in him.

Standing there, though, with Liam staring down at him inquisitively, he never thought he’d really ever be in the position to test his own boundaries. Push himself to find the things that made him tick. He’d never felt the particular need to jump on another guy’s dick, but he wanted to explore every plane of Liam’s skin, feel him moaning and shaking against him. Just to find out, maybe.

He was a little hooked, like Liam had predicted.

This guy was in the business of knowing. Knowing exactly what to say and do was kind of what he was supposed to be good at, if he wanted to be successful. It was all about reading people.

“Alright.” Zayn conceded finally, eyes holding Liam’s. It felt like a game almost. “Just sex." It'd been a while for him, anyway, "I don’t know if you’ve got some special place you like to go for this, or…?”

“Your place. Unless there’s some pressing reason why we can’t go there. I’m sure there’ll be a nice little alley corner for us to to do it.” Liam deadpanned.

Zayn stared at him for a moment, wondering whether or not it was too late to back out of an arrangement with a guy who wanted to do it behind a dumpster or some shit. Up until he saw one corner of Liam's mouth twitch just slightly. “I’m kidding.”

Zayn felt genuine relief pulse through him. He reached over to swat Liam's arm. “Thank fuck, I thought you were serious. My flat might work, I just--you know from Harry that I’ve got this roommate, so, if you feel weird about having--”

“No, that’s fine. I just want to get you all to myself for a night.” he hummed, finally closing the distance between them as he pulled Zayn right up against his chest, and Zayn could practically feel every little indent of muscle and ab between their layers of clothing. Normally there would be breasts pressed right up against him, but instead, there was a bit of a blank space, with maybe a bit of starkly defined pectoral muscles if he leaned in close enough. His smell was intoxicatingly inviting, enough to have his head swimming and his jeans feeling maybe a bit tighter than normal.

No one had ever had this much control over Zayn. Nor this kind of effect.

He wanted more of it, already. Screw the playful banter and foreplay.  

He felt one of Liam’s hands travel down to play with the waistline on his jeans, pulling him out of his revere. “We should hail a cab.” he said finally.

The boy simply nodded his agreement, reaching up to trail his thumb over Zayn’s bottom lip. Normally, Zayn would probably be worrying about where that thumb had been, but when everything was happening in a blur, he found that he didn’t really give a shit. Liam could probably jam his thumb right into Zayn’s eyeball, and Zayn would just fucking take it, he was so far gone.

“We should.” Liam agreed, hand dropping down to curl his hand around Zayn’s wrist. He shivered at the contact. It was almost too much. “Come on.” Liam said finally, stepping out of Zayn’s space to pull him along towards the sidewalk.

Zayn felt like he was drunk.

All of his inhibitions had apparently gone out the fucking window, because even with the ludicrous idea of taking a male prostitute home with the direct intent of sleeping with him, Zayn had class bright and early the next morning, not to mention a big term paper due. He’d never get anything done.

Not his smartest decision.

Before he could reevaluate his shit judgement and life decisions, Liam was flagging down a cab, and Zayn was scooting right along inside, calling out his address to the driver.

Liam clambered inside right after, pulling the door shut with haste. He could see the tension leaving the set of his shoulders, and during their whole interaction moments before, Zayn had almost forgotten the chilly bite in the air. Liam must have been absolutely freezing.

He gripped the vinyl seat, nails clamping into the material, before finally allowing himself to turn his gaze on the call boy, and he seemed completely at bliss, drinking in the vehicle heating.

“Oh god, that’s nice.” he said, letting out a whoosh of air.

Zayn maybe shouldn’t have been staring, but Liam had his eyes closed, so he figured it was safe enough to really look at him then.

He really was kind of beautiful, in this rugged, sweet way. His eyes were soft, light brown eyelashes fanning out against his cheeks. His lips were pink, parted ever so slightly, and perfectly shaped. He had a thin layer of scruff, and while his eyes made him look years younger and far more innocent than Zayn knew he was, the set to his jaw and the hollows of his cheeks and the underneath of his eyes told Zayn otherwise.

“What’re you looking at, pretty boy?” Liam’s eyes fluttered open, a smile tugging at his lips.

Zayn’s cheeks flushed with color. “Nothing, you dork. Just waiting for you to wake up before I change my mind.”

Liam gave him a considering look, and for a moment, he just sat, staring back at Zayn. Then, he was backing Zayn up against the door, hands on either side of his head, pressing to the glass window. “I’m awake, pretty.”

Zayn went to breathe, but every breath he took smelled and tasted distinctly of Liam, and the air was suddenly feeling thin.

“I’m going to let you initiate this. Just so I know.” Liam said, voice deep and far less playful than it had been prior to their little cab drive.

Zayn parted his lips, tilting his head to the side. Considering. He tilted his head the other way, the air catching in his lungs, burning for a minute, before tentatively letting it back out. “I don’t, uhm...you know, _know_ how to go about this.” He said, gesturing a hand between their chests.

Liam raised an eyebrow, staying silent, as his eyes flickered down to Zayn’s lips. “If it makes it easier on you, you could always close your eyes and pretend I’m a girl.” he mused.

It felt a little like mockery.

He imagined that even if he closed his eyes, he’d still see Liam behind his eyelids, and smell him, and feel him. “It’s not-- not what I meant.” he said.

“ _Oh?_ What did you mean?”

“I don’t-” he shrugged, reaching a hand out to tug at the hem of his shirt.

Liam stared at him, unblinking and patient.

Zayn let out a huff, readjusting himself in his seat, “Just shut up.”

And with that, he closed the bit of distance between them, head tilting to the side to align their lips, his whole body practically moulding up into Liam’s as he kissed him. He didn’t have to wait even a moment before feeling Liam respond, slow and sweet, and even while Zayn was trying suck his soul out through his lips, Liam somehow controlled the whole thing, hands drifting down to grab at his hips, warmth from his hands radiating through Zayn’s hoodie.

The kiss felt earnest. Surreal, even.

He’d never been kissed like he was the only thing that mattered. Not like Zayn did, in this case. Liam knew how to kiss, and maybe it was the sudden press of Liam’s tongue, hot and wet against Zayn’s lower lip, but everything about his movements felt raw and heated, with so much purpose.

Zayn could hear the driver clear his throat, and when he opened his eyes to glance up front, he couldn’t help laughing against Liam’s lips as the red coloring his cheeks. Liam’s eyes opened then too, and instead of averting his eyes up front, he kept them locked with Zayn’s, something like hunger playing in his expression.

Zayn’s eyebrows weaved together, wondering why Liam kept staring, but when he felt fingers trailing down his midsection, going lower and lower, he understood what Liam was going for quite clearly.

He inhaled sharply when he felt a warm palm press to the front of his jeans, massaging and rubbing with just enough pressure to send all of Zayn’s blood travelling south, and suddenly, his jeans felt too tight.

“Getting a little flustered, Zayn?” Liam teased, trailing feather-light kisses down his neck. Zayn never thought he’d like the feeling of stubble scratching along his skin. “You’re already halfway there, I think.” He murmured, hand still feeling along the inseam of his legs.

“Shut up.’’ Zayn grumbled, hand coming up to grip the back of his neck to pull him down.

This time when they kissed, Zayn all but melted when he felt Liam’s tongue push past his lips, licking into his mouth like he was hungry for it.

He was so enveloped in every little movement, every little touch and kiss, that when the cab came to a halt, neither Zayn nor Liam seemed to take notice until the cabbie cleared his throat a touch more aggressively than he had the first time.

Liam pulled back just a centimeter or two, “I think this is us.”

Zayn stared. “Excuse me?”

A crease formed between Liam’s eyebrows, and he laughed. “Our stop. This is our stop, genius.”

“Oh.” Zayn rolled his eyes, nudging Liam off him.

He handed the cabbie his money, Liam doing the same, before scooting his way out of the vehicle.

Liam was practically attached to his side all the way down the pathway to his flat, fumbling around in his pockets for his keys. His fingers felt a little numb every time he felt lips press to the nape of his neck.

When he finally managed to somehow get the key into the lock after quite gracefully dropping his keys twice, he breathed a sigh of relief to find that Louis wasn’t there.

His flat mate could’ve been kidnapped for all he knew, but when he felt Liam’s fingers wrap around his arms, just above the elbows, backing him up into the nearest wall, he found it hard to find any sort of will to care.

“I don’t actually have any-”

“Shh,” Liam reached back, grabbing for something from his back pocket, “I always come prepared, believe me.” He said, holding up two small foil packets.

Zayn didn’t have any pressing questions then.

“This is a one night thing.” He said, just for good measure. “I’m not planning on making a habit of this.”

“I don’t make long term arrangements. Often, that is. I only make the exception for nice, fat wallets, and even fatter bank accounts.” Liam said, resting his forearm against the wall above Zayn’s head.

“ _Wow_ , what a romantic thought.” Zayn mused, head lolling back to roll his eyes.

“Don’t be a smart-ass.”

“Can’t help it. It’s genetically encoded.” He retorted, shit-eating grin in place.

It was Liam’s turn to roll his eyes.

Zayn watched him hesitate, gnawing at his bottom lip as he let his eyes skim down over Zayn’s face, just... _looking_ at him for a couple seconds. “I need to know if you’re really okay with all of this. I’ve dealt with guys like you, pretty much since I started doing this. A lot of them are closeted, married arseholes, but, I digress. I can’t have you showing up downtown in a week’s time, angry with me for your late-night decisions.” he paused, “If there’s any part of you that’s doubting this, I need you to tell me now. I won’t be mad. I can just as easily leave, and find some other means of profit, but to save myself any future conflicts with you, because you’ve had some sort of blossoming sexuality crisis, I-”

“I’m a big boy. Let me make my own decisions. Or mistakes.” Zayn said, pressing a finger to Liam’s lips to cut him off. “It’s just sex. I’m not in love with you. You’re not in love with me. We’re not dating. Fuck, I’m not even _paying_ you. It is what it is.”

It all sounded clinical and dry to Zayn. Very black and white. It felt okay, though. It was just a business transaction. Zayn was horny, and it wasn’t like his winning personality was going to get him anywhere with anyone else that evening. Liam would suit his needs perfectly. Kind of like surrogate sex until he found the real thing.

Liam’s lips furled up into a grin, pleased with the answer he got, it seemed. “Great. Take off your shirt, and show me to your bedroom.”

Zayn didn’t need to be told twice.

\-------

The light streaming in through his blinds that morning was grey and cold.

It was raining and overcast.

Zayn slowly peeled his eyelids open, acutely aware of the ache in his arse, and the dead-weight of his limbs. He felt oddly at peace in his own body.

When he rolled over a bit, his pillow didn’t smell so much like himself anymore, but more like the intermingled scent of sweat, sex, and Liam.

He let out a grunt, eyes closing again as he reached a hand out to his side, petting the trussed-up sheets beside him, only to find that side of the bed cold and empty.

  
When Zayn woke up that morning, he was alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Zayn was fine.

He was no stranger to crawling out of some girl’s bed in the middle of the night, quietly pulling on his clothes, all the while sneaking glances over his shoulder to make sure that the one-night-stand for that particular night hadn’t woken to catch him in the act of his elaborate escape plan.

He hated goodbyes. He hated the miniscule promises of, “Call me.” post-it notes left on nightstands. He didn’t often call, anyway. Sentimentality just wasn’t his thing.

He always imagined that someday he’d find the right woman. One who he wouldn’t have minded waking up to in the morning, where they’d maybe make each other breakfast, and have lazy shower sex after. Settling down with someone had always been the end goal.

Zayn, however, liked sex, and he figured that while he searched for that special someone, he was free to have as many flings as he felt suited to fling.

He’d never woken up on the receiving end of it.

Bed empty. No note. No goodbye.

Not even a complementary, “Nice fuck," or even, “Hey, thanks for getting me off. Now I’m gonna take off.”

He just felt cold as he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, and he couldn’t help but wonder how many of those girls he’d taken to bed had woken up the morning after, feeling that strange sense of dejection. Feeling cold and alone, even if they knew from the beginning that nothing would have come from a messy one-night-stand anyway.

It had been a week since that night with Liam, the night that Zayn had begun referring to as his “accidental, gay slip-up”.

He prided himself in trying one of everything life had to offer, so he figured he’d end up in bed with a chap at some point in his lifetime. And _fuck_ , had it been good.

He remembered the ache in his arse, and how he’d stayed home from work that day to sit on a bag of frozen peas. Even if he’d used the small amount of discomfort to get out of going to work, it was kind of...nice, almost. A little remnant of that night that made his pants feel a little too tight whenever he let his mind wander back to it.

He’d gone to work the rest of that week, ruining pretty much every nice shirt he owned by spilling thick, syrupy black coffee down his front every fucking day just about, and surviving in a zombie-like state on two hours of sleep a night, and homework filling up any time he wasn’t at work or unconscious.

Sometimes he found his thoughts wandering back to images of wide brown eyes boring down into his, and the little grunts made when Liam’s hips snapped up to meet Zayn’s. Sweat-slick skin slapping haughtily, and fingers digging in enough to leave bruises everywhere they traveled. He remembered the stretch he felt as he fit around Liam’s cock, moaning his name inexplicably.

After the first round of orgasms, he remembered Liam practically beaming, all ready for round two. Then round three. Then round seven.

And Liam just kept fucking _going_. Zayn figured he’d have to have stamina being in the business that Liam was.

After hours of power fucking that made cardio look simplistic, they’d collapsed in a jumble of limbs, and sticky, sweaty skin.

Needless to say, they’d gotten little sleep that night, or at least that had been the case for Zayn. Liam had been busy sneaking out, using _his_ elaborate escape plan.  

It had been the best sex of Zayn’s life, which was entirely unfair, since now Zayn couldn’t seem to pull his thoughts away from the whole ordeal.

Any time he found himself reaching between his bedsheets, down the front of his boxers, or any time he found himself wanking in the shower, it was thoughts of Liam that had him a moaning, blubbering mess.

And jerking off was all he could do. It was becoming a health hazard. He was beginning to _chafe_ , for fucks sake. On late nights where he felt especially bitter about Liam setting the golden standard for sex, he thought about how much money he’d get for suing Liam for being the ultimate distraction.

He still saw Harry around the flat that week, for almost no apparent reason.

The first time, Zayn had been standing at the fridge at three in the morning, pulling out a carton of milk to get to the beer bottles behind, and suddenly, Harry was walking out of Louis’ room, _completely naked_ , and Zayn physically jolted, thinking someone had broken in. He didn’t even make a noise as the milk carton flew out of his hands, spilling milk all down Zayn’s front, and splattering all over the kitchen.

Honestly, why did anyone trust Zayn with liquid at this point in his life?

Harry had just stood in the entrance of the kitchen, trying to hold back the laugh that was just at the edge of his lips, looking blissfully sated and beyond amused. “Bet you’re used to that.” Harry snorted, motioning to the milk running down Zayn’s face.

**  
  
**

He didn’t even have to ask why Harry was there. He knew full well.

Soon after, he found himself coming home after work, and there Harry would be. Lounging on his couch, remote in hand, as he flipped through channels, or nude, cock out and everything, standing over the stove while stirring something with a large wooden spoon. He’d only smile like a dope when Zayn would walk in, giving him a little informal salute with two fingers, and Zayn always wondered if Harry worried about food splattering on his very exposed self, although the lad didn’t seem to be bothered by it one bit.

Harry just got good at inserting himself into Zayn’s life, and Louis’ as well, although on a much more invasive scale.

\------

The present morning, after a good wank in the shower, because that’s apparently all Zayn was good for now, Zayn slipped on a shirt that was halfway clean. It at least looked clean when he excavated it from the mound of growing laundry in the corner of his room. He didn’t have time in his life for laundry. He slipped into his work slacks, and massaged some sculpting gel through his hair. It was a mess. He could at least pull off the starving student look.

He gave his room one last look-over. It was a mess. Like his hair. And part of his life. He’d definitely need a spring cleaning session after this term.

And someone who upstaged Liam in bed.

Liam had honestly obliterated sex for him.

He slung his bag over his shoulder, leaning in to give Louis a quick peck on the cheek once he was out in living room. It was nice pretending they were a crotchety married couple, because Zayn couldn’t fathom anyone else tolerating him until death do them part.

After a quick wave at Harry, who was now standing in the doorway of Louis’ room, tangling a hand through his unruly hair, Zayn slipped into a pair of converse, and made his way out.

He didn’t even feel tired anymore.

He wondered if maybe being tired all the time gave him the illusion of feeling awake, since feeling tired was now the new norm for him.

He bit his lip, kicking at a few rocks on the city pavement, as he made his way uptown, cheeks and nose bitten with cold when the autumn breeze blew through.

His lips were bitten raw and swollen as he unlocked the employee entrance door to the cafe, quite nearly bumping into Mark. Or Matt. He always forgot this fucking kid’s name. M-something had a cigarette already dangling from his lips, and was shooting Zayn a quizzical look, like _how dare_ Zayn get in his precious way.

Zayn pushed past him, not even in the mood to care about whether or not he came off as a prick. He wasn’t there to play nice and be liked.

“Malik!” He heard Niall’s pitchy voice, and no sooner did he see a blond head peek out from the lounge, already adorned in employee uniform. “You look like shit.”

“Good morning to you, too, buddy.” Zayn muttered.

He didn’t take it too personally at this point. This was just the Niall he'd come to accept.

“Awe, poor thing. How many days ‘as it been, now? Three? Four?”

Zayn’s eyebrows creased together, as he grappled with the padlock on his assigned locker. “How many days since what?”

“Days that you’ve been looking like shit.” Niall answered, hopping up on one of the rickety tables set up against the wall. He poured himself a styrofoam cup of very thick looking coffee. It gave the illusion of being jet fuel, “Are you sleeping at all, man? I feel like this is unhealthy.’’

“It’s probably unhealthy.” Zayn agreed, shoving his backpack in along the pile of dirty shirts lying at the bottom of his locker. “I’m a busy person lately.”

Niall sucked in a breath, blowing at the contents in his cup. “Have any idea what that’ll do to your head? It can take it’s toll, mate.”

Zayn glanced back, watching Niall’s eyes meet his over his coffee cup, before breaking into a toothy grin.

He could be a prat sometimes, but Zayn couldn’t say he wasn’t caring.

“I’m fine.” Zayn mumbled, slamming his locker shut, locking it in place. “If I drop dead, I’ll at least be getting rest.”

Niall snorted from his corner, before hopping off the table. “It can’t be all that bad. Didn’t you shag someone the other night?”

Zayn just stared. “That was six days ago, first of all. Secondly, how did you even know?”

Niall shrugged, “You skipped work that day. You never stay home, even if you’re sick. Just kinda figured.”

Zayn rolled his eyes. “Leave it to you to follow my orgasm schedule.”

Niall waggled his eyebrows. “So, it was good then.”

Zayn scoffed, because _‘good’_? _‘Good’_ was an injustice, almost.

“It was fine.” He mumbled, clipping his magnetic name tag to his shirt. “Our shift started three minutes ago, can we please just-” he made vague hand gestures towards the door.

Niall shrugged, tossing his cup into the waste bin.

Zayn winced as he heard coffee slosh out to stew at the bottom of the trash bag. That was going to smell _lovely_ three days from now.

He followed Niall out to the front, passing by their co-worker, Jesy, bright cherry red hair, and a tense smile, eyes widening comically as she turned her eyes on Zayn and Niall.

“Just...take care of this customer.” She hissed in Zayn’s ear, and it was then that he noticed the sticky sweetener spilled all down her front, and the broken bottle on the floor.

The rest of the baristas worked at a manic pace, stepping over the shattered sweetener pump on the floor.

Zayn was stressed just watching.

He quickly tugged a navy blue apron off one of the hooks, tying it loosely around his waist as he approached the cashiers counter, addressing a very impatient looking businessman, suit looking about as pressed and uptight as the man’s expression.

Zayn had found early on in the training process that he could filter stupid very easily.

So when the next customer started word-vomiting bullshit about young adults not being qualified enough to create a decent milk-to-coffee ratio in their morning brew, Zayn was able to tack on a smile, and think about the hook in his term paper that he still had to add in. Hooks were his kryptonite, basically, and he’d often find himself staring at his computer screen for hours, trying to think of something catchy for an intro. They just sucked.

He was staring down at the card machine, finishing up the gentleman’s transaction. He was just about to hand the card back, and-

“Funny seeing you here.”

The voice gave him a physical jolt, heat travelling straight down to his groin. He was all too accustomed to that voice whispering dirty encouragements in his ear, and forming small little grunts just as he was about to cum.

Zayn forgot how to move for a minute, eyes wide and staring down at the card machine like it would somehow save him, and shroud him in a Harry Potter-like cloak of invisibility.

He saw Liam’s body out of his peripheral vision, head ducking down a bit as he tried to catch Zayn’s attention.

“Zayn? You okay?” he heard him ask.

There was no shortage of amusement laden in his question.

Zayn’s eyes slowly scanned up, landing on Liam’s torso, clad in a thick sweater, up, up, and up until he was casting his eyes over his chin, lips, nose. Eyes. Warm, brown eyes.

“What?” He finally managed, although his throat felt about forty-three percent drier than it had a moment ago.

Liam blinked, thick eyebrows developing a little crease in the middle, before he was chuckling. “Are. You. Okay?” he repeated.

Zayn felt tense all over, neck feeling completely disjointed as he nodded. “Yep. Peachy.” he mumbled, and fuck, why did he have to come back with things like _peachy_ , for god's sake.

He was gonna throw up on the counter.

“Are you stalking me?” the question seemed to just fly out of his mouth before he even gave the words consent to leave.

Liam looked taken aback at the question, bracing his hands on the granite countertop. “I’ve run into you a total of once. The one time being this. _Right now._ I don’t think that qualifies as stalking.”

Zayn rolled his eyes, watching Liam’s lips pull up into a stupid, fucking smile, that Zayn just wanted to bite at. “Okay, yes, but you don’t…” he lowered his voice as the patron behind Liam had stood up a little taller to glance over Liam’s shoulder, shooting them both an inquisitive look. “...you don’t live on this side of town, and then you show up where I work. What are you doing here?” he hissed, leaning forward a bit.

Liam raised a hand in his defense. “Okay, first of all, don’t flatter yourself. I’m allowed to go into coffee shops of my own volition. You never told me where you worked. Second of all, one of my sisters goes to the university around here, and I’m meeting her for lunch in just a bit.”

Zayn couldn’t really talk flack when there was a sister involved.

“But...you’re out. In the day. Getting coffee.” Zayn said, voice hushed as he fixed Liam with a desperate look, making wild hand gestures as he motioned to the cafe around them. He knew he sounded like a complete jackass, but he was completely willing to blame it on his little bout of hysteria he’d been battling all week.

Liam full on frowned at that, thick eyebrows creased together, looking at Zayn like he was an absolute fucking moron. “ _Yeah_ , Zayn. Astute observation. Prostitutes drink coffee, too. _Surprise_.” he deadpanned.

“I thought you didn’t like being called that.” Zayn deadpanned.

Liam snorted, “I don’t, but people do it anyway, so what’s really the point?”

Zayn was a fucking moron.

“Right, yeah. Of course you, uhm...drink coffee. I-”

_“What’s the hold-up?”_ Someone farther back in the queue piped up.

Zayn glared in their general direction, people skills be damned.

One corner of Liam’s mouth pulled up into a smirk. “Have you all flustered, do I?” he teased, and _there_ it was, that husky, sickeningly rough edge to Liam’s voice.

Zayn opened his mouth to speak, jaw closing with a clack.

“Can I take your order?” he finally asked, voice stiff and wobbly as he tried to regain himself. He was not caffeinated nearly enough to deal with this. Any sort of internal crisis would probably put him into a coma.

Liam watched him with this little bemused expression, one that felt maybe a little patronizing or amused, either way, it irritated Zayn to no fucking end. He didn’t know what he wanted to do more, throw a cup coffee in Liam’s smug face, or have Liam bend him over the counter.

He shuddered at the thought, his whole body reacting.

“Just a smoothie for me, I think. Strawberry.” Liam finally spoke.

Zayn stared at him.

The best sex of his life ordered _strawberry smoothies_. It at least put things into some perspective.

“Right. A smoothie.” he mumbled, ringing him up on the computer system. “That all?”

Liam chewed his lip, and honestly, only Zayn should be allowed to do that. He watched Liam crane his neck to the side, eyes skimming over the array of desserts, soups, salads and sandwiches, and breakfast items aligning the little display cabinet.

“I might fancy a chocolate croissant.” He added, leaning his front against the counter to watch Zayn type up the order.

“ _Might?_ Is that a hard decision for you? You have no problem deciding who you fuck, I can’t imagine that this is a real brain-scratcher.”

“ _Ooooh,_ someone’s cranky.” Liam snorted, looking a little taken aback at the edge in Zayn’s voice. “Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, did you?”

Zayn stared blankly. Maybe he wanted to reach across and throttle Liam instead.

How would you know what I side I wake up on? Zayn thought. You didn’t stick around long enough to find out.

Zayn chose to just wrinkle his nose at the card machine, earning this smug little smile, just a little pull of the lips, from Liam.

He felt a tap on the shoulder, and he turned his head to see Niall’s blonde hair and wide blue eyes obstructing his vision. “Zayn, we, er-...need to keep the line moving.” he said, shooting Liam a quick but polite smile.

Zayn turned back to Liam, the boy staring back like he expected Zayn to put on some sort of side-show entertainment in the meantime.

“Your order will be ready in just a few minutes.” He said stiffly, waiting for Liam to take the hint and just go.

Liam nodded, although he didn’t budge even an inch.

Zayn blinked at his resilience, folding his arms across his chest. “Do you enjoy holding the power of making people behind you wait, or are you waiting for something in particular?”

Liam leaned forward on the counter, elbows resting on the granite. He watched Liam’s biceps bulge just a little at the movement, straining through the material of the form-fitting burgundy sweater he wore. He beckoned Zayn closer with a finger.

Zayn glanced around speculatively, before leaning forward just a little.

“How are you?” Liam whispered, once Zayn was close enough.

Zayn blinked, “Are you...what the hell, Liam, I’m _working_.”

Liam laughed at that, soft and sweet, before shaking his head. “You seem bitter with me. Which is drastically different than the treatment I got from you last time. I can recite some of my favorite lines of yours, if that’s what you-”

“ _Keep your voice down._ ” Zayn hissed, although with all the business going on in there--the clutter of voices, the whoosh, whistle, and groan of coffee machines beside and behind him, the clank of porcelain and glass mugs being set out on counters and tables--it was unlikely that their conversation was being heard by anyone else, maybe other than the guy right behind Liam in the queue.

“Are you experiencing regret? Because I made it pretty clear that I didn’t want to get mixed up in an ‘I’m-straight-but-possibly-might-like-dick’ sort of freak out that you _promised me_ you wouldn’t have. I-”

Zayn pressed a finger to Liam’s lips, cutting him off. The contact alone sent heat rushing just under his skin. “It’s not like that.” he breathed.

“You’re being short with me. I’ve known straight men to get upset after this sort of thing, but Christ, it’s been a week, Zayn, if you’re still holding a grudge-”

“I’m not holding a grudge.” Zayn cut in.

Glancing back at the line that was steadily growing still, he knew he’d have to make this quick.

“I’m fine. Homework is piling up, and I’m worn-out, okay? It’s nothing to do with you.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. A half-truth wasn’t quite a lie.

Liam’s expression softened. “Okay.” He murmured, and any hint of teasing that had been there before was gone. “Are you taking care of yourself?”

Zayn gave him a look, “Why would _you_ care about that?” He asked. It sounded far harsher than he’d meant it to, and by the look that crossed over Liam’s face, one closely resembling hurt, he knew he’d phrased it completely wrong.

“Prostitutes: they’re just like us.” Liam snorted, voice thick with something far less pleasant than amusement. “Look at them tackle emotions, everyday interaction, and empathy. _Amazing_.”

“Liam, I didn’t mean it like-”

“No, it’s fine. And you’re right, it’s not any of business.” He said, voice flat and devoid of anything Zayn could identify.

He plucked his credit card out of Zayn’s fingers. He’d forgotten that he’d been holding onto it.

“Bye.”

Zayn watched him slide his card back into his wallet, slide his wallet back into his pocket, and leave the queue.

He felt like maybe the ache in his stomach, like a punch to the gut, was probably something that he deserved.

He didn’t ever anticipate that he and Liam would ever be friends, lovers, boyfriends, whatever. He knew it was a spur-of-the-moment night between them that had taken place just a little under a week ago. He didn’t expect anything from Liam, as he shouldn’t, although for some reason, he saw fit to take out his sleep-deprivation on Liam. The lad hadn’t even done or said anything wrong.

Zayn had had plenty of opportunities in his life to feel shitty about himself, but this was definitely a low point for him. He’d practically de-humanized the guy and what he did for a living, or at least how he made a living at night, making him out to be a simple-minded, fuck monster.

He stared at the next customer in line, not realizing that they’d repeated their order almost four times, and Zayn hadn’t caught so much as a word of it.

He felt a hand on his upper arm, and when he looked back, bright blue eyes stared at him, eyebrows creased together with concern. He let Niall pull him back a few steps, and undo the lace on his apron.

“You go home, alright? I’ve got your post from here.” He said, reaching up to pull the neck strap up and over Zayn’s head. “Have Lou make you some tea, and sleep. I expect you to sleep, hear?”

Zayn stared at him. He didn’t even feel sad or upset really, just too overwhelmed to really feel anything. He nodded along anyway, staring at Niall’s forehead.

“Zayn,” he heard again, and this time he met Niall’s eyes, blue boring into brown. “Did you hear what I just said?”

Zayn nodded slowly again, licking his lips, before parting them to speak. “Yeah. I will.”

“And I want you to take a cab. No walking. Don’t want you passing out in some ditch, and have your body eaten by maggots.” Niall added.

Zayn snorted, “They’d have a fulfilling meal.”

“Not if you continue to miss meals.” Niall pointed out.

It was a good point.

Before Zayn had really registered what was happening, he was being ushered out into the sunny, yet somehow chilly, day, and into a cab that Niall had hailed down. He felt Niall’s lips press to his forehead, before receiving a pat on the arm, and then he was gone.

Zayn felt like a zombie.

He was only dimly aware of the city passing him by just outside the window, and every second that ticked by felt like an hour.

His brain felt like it was on hibernate, and the only thing that played through his head was the conversation with Liam, and where he could’ve maybe saved himself with a bit of grace.

He didn’t realize the cab had come to a halt until the cabbie was knocking at the partition with his knuckle, shooting Zayn this look in the rearview mirror. He didn’t have a pretty boy keeping his attention, someone to sneer at the driver a bit while they made out in the back seat.

He peeled himself out of the vehicle, knowing that Niall had already tossed the cabbie a wad of cash, and made the trek down to his flat.

He didn’t bother to knock.

He couldn’t imagine that Harry’s bare arse could shock him at this point. It was surprisingly devoid of hair, which was less shocking than maybe chancing an encounter with an arse that resembled a yeti’s.

Louis and Harry were...dressed, shockingly. Both doing something as mundane as staring at the TV, while Harry gave gentle nips to Louis’ neck. It wasn’t totally innocent, but it was practically child’s play compared to what they usually did.

Louis looked up when the door shut behind Zayn, smile faltering as he glanced over Zayn’s exterior. “What are you doing home so early?” he asked, patting Harry on the knee lightly before crawling off the couch to walk his way over to Zayn.

He blinked, reaching up to drag his thumb along the dark circle under Zayn’s eye, then the other.

“Please, if you and Harry did any weird finger play, I hope you washed your hands.” Zayn murmured, feeling too drained to laugh at his own jape.

Louis smacked him lightly on the arm. “Smartass. What’s wrong?”

Zayn shook his head, staring at the wall behind Louis’ head, before he leaned down, resting his head on the boy’s shoulder. “I’m tired. It’s been a long day.” he murmured, letting himself be all pitiful and dramatic. He deserved at least one day, right?

“Oh, Zee.” Louis cooed, wrapping his arms around him in a sweet kind of hug. They weren’t exactly co-dependent people, the both of them, but they leaned on each other a lot more than Zayn realized. “Let’s get you to bed, okay? No funny business, my bum is still sore from Harry.” he snorted.

“Oh, _darn._ ” Zayn deadpanned, “Gonna have to revise my elaborate plan of getting you into bed.” he rolled his eyes, shoving lightly at Louis’ shoulder.

Louis grinned, reaching back to pinch Zayn on the bum. “I know, everyone’s just waiting to get at this.” he sucked in a breath, hand gesturing at himself, sweeping down his torso.

“You’re a git.” Zayn spoke, leaning over to press a kiss to Louis’ forehead, before stepping out of his shoes, and side-stepping the lad to head down the tiny hallway that led to both bedrooms and one bath.

He waved a quick hello to Harry, and instead of displaying a comically large grin, he gave a thoughtful little smile instead.

“Need me to fetch you anything?” He heard Louis call from behind him.

Zayn shook his head, with a quiet, “Thanks,” before he was closing his bedroom door behind him, and collapsing face-first onto his bed.

\-----

Unsurprisingly enough, Zayn couldn’t sleep.

He could feel the constant desire for sleep tugging at his eyelids, and everything about his movements felt lethargic and labored, like his limbs were too heavy for his body.

He felt _ready_ for sleep, like it could take him at any moment it chose.

He just...couldn’t.

He stared upwards, counted all the cracks and bumps in his ceiling, tried rerunning every boring gardening show his mum would watch on Saturday mornings, and tried relaxing his mind, taking slow, deliberate breaths.

Despite all of this, his eyes stayed open, and his mind stayed wandering, and sleep was a stubborn fuck that didn’t seem to want to take.

It had been hours since he’d walked himself through the front door of his flat, and only about one since Harry and Louis had switched the TV off. He thought he’d heard the door open and close once, signaling Harry’s departure for the evening.

Off to work he goes.

It was about an hour after that Zayn found himself crawling from his bed, slipping into a sweatshirt, and quietly creeping out of his room.

He needed to apologize. He needed some sort of absolution. It was the only way his body and mind would let him sleep.

Thirty minutes later, and a cab drive through town, Zayn found himself in that sketchy area of the outer city, with seedy clubs, and seedier people, and flashing neon lights that casted every street in an eerie, ethereal glow. He folded his arms around his chest, mouth pressing into a tight light, chin lifted. He wasn’t in the mood for older gentlemen to approach him with their propositions just then. Any other night, and he’d probably find it hilarious, but tonight wasn’t that kind of night.

He bit his lip raw as he wandered down every sketchy alleyway he could find, trying desperately to remember where he’d gotten lost. It was kind of a cosmic joke, really. Losing himself, and trying to lose himself again.

He passed by throngs of beautiful boys, all in a manner of undress, catching more than a few eyes as he went. He’d feel flattered later.

One alley turned into another, until the masses started dying a bit. He stopped himself for a moment, contemplating just running out into the middle of the street to wait for a car to hit him, or some shit. At least then he’d get some fucking sleep while in the hospital.

It wasn’t until he glanced back, eyes catching on a white-collar type making his way down the street, that it clicked. Zayn stared at the man for a moment, sizing him up. His expression was maybe a little terse, like there was an inner debate taking place somewhere in that head of his. His hair was greying on the sides. Looked to be maybe in his forties. Zayn’s eyes trailed lower, catching light reflecting off the silver wedding band that encircled his ring finger.

_Bingo._

Zayn pulled his hood up, careful to duck his head down as he followed the man down winding streets, and sharp little gaps between buildings. It became clear that Zayn was following the right path when, with one sharp left down a dank corridor, and Zayn was surrounded.

Boys of all shapes and sizes lined each wall, and distantly, Zayn watched the forty-something drape himself in between the company of two much younger boys, each shooting knowing glances to each other over the man’s shoulder.

Zayn ducked his head again, moving through the little gathering, ignoring the few comments he got, the flirting and propositions shot his way over the promise of money. Most of these boys were probably richer than Zayn could ever hope to be at present, assuming they weren’t pissing it all away.

He searched each face, looking for inviting brown eyes, or even a curly head of brown hair. Anything that would lead him back to Liam.

He _needed_ this.

He bit his lip raw, tasting metallicy blood on his tongue. He also really _needed_ to start carrying chapstick, too.

He let out a deep breath, stopping in his spot as he spun around on his heel.

Maybe Liam was working. Some other man had probably showed up, and fallen right into Liam’s little jokes; the way he put people in the spot, and made them feel vibrant for just that moment. Zayn wouldn’t have blamed them, probably. He’d fallen in the same boat.

“You lookin’ for someone, sweetie?”

The voice was deep, although it didn’t hold a candle to Harry’s, and when he turned, his eyebrows shot up just a little.

The person that had approached him had on the brightest shade of red that wigs had to offer, and lips about as blue as the summer sky. Lipstick, obviously. The rest of their face was dusted lightly in powder, the eyes done in sheens of metallics, with thick eyeliner to match. Even in the white, lacy stockings, and a white button-up to match, somehow, they could pull it off.

He had to admire the work that drag queens put into their look. It was kind of fucking impressive.

“Yeah...actually.” he murmured, eyes sweeping around briefly, before nodding. “His name’s, uhm...Liam? I don’t know if he’s in tonight, but-”

“He’s right over there.” A manicured nail pointed him in the opposite direction, and when Zayn turned, he found himself flooding with relief.

“Thanks.” he called over his shoulder, walking briskly towards where Liam was leaning against the door of a car, lips moving as he spoke with whomever was inside.

He paused when he was only a few feet away, mouth opening to speak, only to let out a rush of air. What was he supposed to say?

He watched Liam’s lips pull up into a smile, as he cocked his head over to the side, probably making some snarky, overly enticing comment that would charm the pants right off the mouth-breather in the vehicle.

“ _Liam_.”

He watched Liam’s head shoot around, looking behind him for the source of the voice, eyes scanning over the area, before his eyes landed on Zayn. He felt frozen in his spot.

Zayn pretended not to notice the cold pull to Liam’s expression then, the way his smile faltered, and his eyes lost that sheen that made them inviting.

Liam turned back to whisper something to the man in the car, before straightening up to make his way over to where Zayn stood, leaning against a stop sign.

“What are you doing here?” Liam sounded urgent. Not at all like he had the night Zayn had stumbled upon him.

Zayn’s jaw opened in a bit, before closing with a clack of his teeth. He blamed his lack of sleep on his utter speechlessness, looking like an absolute dumbass as he just sort of stared.

Liam stared right back, eyebrows lifting after a few moments. “Zayn. _What are you doing here?_ I really don’t have time for this right now, I’ve got work.”

“ _This_ is work?” Zayn snorted.

Liam’s lips parted, expression going stoic as he gave Zayn a cold stare. Then, he was turning away, going to take a step towards the car again.   
  


“ _No_ , wait, I’m sorry.” Zayn said, reaching out to place a hand on Liam’s shoulder, nails digging into his shirt. “Please, I just...I needed to say something. Really quick, I swear.”

Liam turned back around, eyes skyward as he appeared to be suppressing some sort of backhanded comment, which Zayn surely deserved at this point.

He took a deep breath, shaking his head. “I don’t know why I’m acting like this. I’m not...I turn into an arsehole during midterms and finals, ask anyone. Or...Louis, really.” he murmured.

Liam finally flicked his eyes back down to Zayn’s, expression blank. Unimpressed.

“I respect you, and I shouldn’t have been so flippant. I feel like an utter piece of shit, and I just...I can’t sleep after how I came off.”

“So you’ve only come here to do this to get a better nights rest?” Liam asked, eyebrow drawing up.

“It’s not just for my own benefit, I was really out of line.” he took a deep breath. “I just need to be absolved of what I said. I feel like shit over it, okay? I’m just--” he ran a hand over his own forehead, swallowing past what felt like a rock in his throat. “I’m so, so tired. And I don’t know why I had to track you down like this, and I’m just sorry, and Harry and Louis _fuck_ all the _fucking_ time, and it’s loud, and annoying, and I’m honestly about to make a daisy chain out of my homework assignments, and then choke myself with it, I-”

He stopped when he felt a hand come to rest on his waist. It wasn’t a carnal move, but it was...gentle, almost.

“Zayn.” he heard Liam’s voice, and he shifted his eyes across, focusing in on his face. “It’s okay. I’m used to it by now. And...from what I’ve seen, you’re not a bad chap. You talk out of your arse sometimes, but you’re decent. I can’t really see you being intentionally cruel to someone. Not that what you said to me was necessarily cruel, but...you get my point.”

Zayn just stared, feeling on the edge of...something. Crying, laughing, biting at Liam’s bottom lip. Something.

“You can go home and sleep now, okay? It’s late. Go home.”

People just loved telling him what to do today, apparently.

Zayn shook his head, feeling a tingle in his nose and his eyes prickle as tears began to blur his vision, and god, he was not seriously about to fucking cry right now.

“I’m so tired.” He mumbled again, shaking his head. “And I’m really, really sorry, and I’m such an infant sometimes.”

Zayn didn’t quite remember when he wound up with his forehead resting against Liam’s shoulder, breathing in that same, spicy sweet smell.

He felt a hand rubbing circles into his back, a friendly gesture more than anything. “You being stressed out is only going to make things feel worse than they are, and blow them out of proportion. I’m a big boy, I’m okay.” He heard Liam laugh quietly, “Come on, let’s get you a cab.”

It was only moments later that Liam was tucking Zayn into a vinyl seat, ringing off Zayn’s address to the cabbie.

And Liam was crawling in right after him.

Zayn didn’t question it.

Just kept his mouth fucking shut, since he apparently had no filter whatsoever when he was like this.

When he turned, Liam was staring straight ahead, lips pressed into a tight line.

Zayn wondered if he’d cost Liam a lot of money that night, taking him away from the posh looking car, and the man inside, beckoning Liam home with him.

He’d feel bad later.

Zayn let his head loll to the side, forehead pressed to the cool glass of the window, feeling orangey light from passing streetlamps flicker across his face.

\-------

The walk down the pathway to Zayn’s flat felt like hours, and maybe the all-nighters he’d pulled once or twice that week were starting to catch up with him.

Liam made sure to shut the heavy door quietly behind them, slipping out of his shoes, and waiting for Zayn to do the same, before guiding him back towards the bedroom, hand resting lightly on his shoulder blade as he led him down.

When Liam made sure to close the bedroom door silently behind them, Zayn moulded himself into Liam’s front, hand coming up to fist in his hair, as he leaned in for a kiss, biting and sucking at his bottom lip. He’d wanted to all day, so why not.

Liam stood still, statuesque, and not at all responding how Zayn needed him to.

He needed sleep, but he needed one last night like this too. Just to get it out of his system.

“Why aren’t you kissing me?” Zayn asked against his lips, making a frustrated noise at the back of his throat as Liam’s hands stayed still at his sides. “Isn't this what you wanted? It’s why you came home with me.”

Liam gently reached up, plucking Zayn’s hands from where they were trying to ruck up Liam’s shirt.

“I’m here to make sure you get some sleep.” Liam said, eyes conveying something like worry as he looked across at Zayn. “That’s what you _need_ right now, okay?” he asked, walking Zayn backwards towards the bed.

Zayn let out a frustrated little huff. He didn’t care if he sounded like a child when he did it.

The bed did look enticing, though.

He let Liam pull the sweatshirt up and off of him, and undo his jeans, peeling them off where they hugged Zayn’s hips.

Choosing to leave his t-shirt on, he crawled under the covers when Liam held them up, feeling the bed dip behind him, as Liam must’ve crawled in too.

There wasn’t an exchange of goodnights. Just the feeling of Liam’s body lining up behind his, only about a centimeter or so away from actually touching. He felt a hand reach out, warm as it massaged his lower back through his shirt.

 **  
**Zayn found sleep easily, then.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, so sorry for the delay between updates! Computer troubles are seemingly taking over my life. 
> 
> I just want to say a huge thank you to all of those who left kudos, and especially the people who left comments. All of them were so kind, and they made me so, so, so happy, I can't even put it into words. 
> 
> Thank you for waiting, and I hope you'll forgive me for the delay, and I especially hope that this next chapter isn't awful.

Zayn came to in only a moment or less, consciousness creeping up on him before his eyes could even open.

The first thing he found himself aware of was that his sheets didn’t smell like himself. He buys pretty generic strawberry shampoo, because it’s within his price range, and maybe he likes the smell of artificial strawberry, so sue him. His pillows usually reeked of it, and if he bundles his nose into the cottony fluff, he still feels the scent flood through his nose.

There’s a new smell mingled there, though. A sweet, piney smell, with undertones of vanilla, and something...spicy almost.

It’s everywhere, and while it feels like something he’s so familiarized with, it’s new and bright in his carefully routined life.

His eyelids slowly fluttered open finally, immediately landing on the source of the smell.

He remembered falling asleep, facing the opposite wall. He vaguely remembered Liam facing the same, however, much much closer.

Like this, there was a foot or two of mattress space between them, and Liam was facing away. Zayn let his eyes trail along the lines of his back visible through the black t-shirt he’d slept in.

He reached out tentatively, fingers feeling along the strip of tanned skin visible where the hem of his shirt rode up just a little. He didn’t even think before doing it. It just felt natural to.

He listened to deep, even breathing, fingers tracing along a something of an old scar that ran in a diagonal line across the lower left side of his back, the mark just a touch lighter than his skin tone.

“What are you doing?”

He jumped at Liam’s voice, tugging his hand away. Liam’s voice was rough with sleep, a touch deeper than normal.

He sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth, “I don’t know.” he murmured, blinking his eyes closed for a moment. “Just a little surprised that you’re still here.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Why?”

Zayn’s eyebrows creased together for a moment. “Your track record doesn’t exactly paint you as the sleepover type.”

He heard a listless laugh, before Liam’s whole back ripple, and he was turning over to lay on his back, head completing the journey as it lolled over to lay his eyes on Zayn.

“I’ve been here once. Once does not make a track record.” He pointed out, features heavy and pulling with sleep.

“S’pose not.” Zayn mumbled.

For a moment, they just laid there, Zayn on his side, and Liam with his head inclined towards Zayn, eyes drawing lines across the other’s face.

Zayn felt lethargic and heavy, like he’d run three marathons and got hit by a car, but he felt rested. His blinds were shut, although his clock told him it was five minutes to noon.

“I’ve missed class.” Zayn mumbled, reaching up to yawn behind the palm of his hand, pushing his fingers through his hair. It was still stiff with product that he hadn’t washed out. “My shift, too.”

“Louis called in sick for you. He dropped in earlier this morning.” Liam answered, eyes still switching between Zayn’s.

“You didn’t leave?”

Liam’s eyebrows furrowed. “Well, I’m still here, last time I checked.”

“Well, no shit.” Zayn snorted, reaching over to shove lightly at Liam’s shoulder. “I, just...Louis came in and woke you. You didn’t get up and leave.”

“No.” Liam let out a snort. “I needed the sleep, and so did you, it would seem. You were practically out cold.”

Zayn reached up to run a hand through his hair again, eyes flickering shut for a moment. “Yeah. I needed that. Definitely. You were...strangely considerate of me last night.”

“You regard me like I’m a robot.” Liam rolled his eyes, “You seemed a little fragile last night, even I could see that. I’m not beyond helping people.”

“Yeah, you’re all about the help.” Zayn said, propping his head up in his hand. “Will the guy in the nice car be especially upset with me for stealing you away?”

Liam’s eyebrows furrowed, licking at his lips. “He’s a regular of mine.” he mumbled, straightening out the sheets between them. “I’m sure he found someone else to suit his needs.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?”

Zayn stared at him, “Will he be upset?”

Liam shrugged one shoulder, biting down on his bottom lip, “I’m not sure. He’s a complex person.”

“What does that mean?” Zayn’s eyebrows drew together.

Liam stared across at Zayn for a moment or two. “Is this an interrogation, now?”

A smile curled at Zayn’s lips. “Of a sort. I’m a curious person.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a private person, so you can forget it.” Liam spoke, chewing his thumbnail.

“But I’m a client.” Zayn joked, eyebrows wiggling suggestively. “What if my kink was steamy interrogation sessions?”

“First of all, you’re not a client.” Liam snorted, thick eyebrows raising up. “And second of all, I think a lot of talk kind of ruins the mood, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Not even dirty talk?”

Liam’s eyes went ceilingward, before flickering back down to Zayn’s, voice worn as he spoke. “What do you want from me, Zayn?”

Zayn shrugged a shoulder, reaching over to pull a microscopic ball of lint from Liam’s t-shirt. “I don’t know. I just want to talk, I guess.”

“Not dirty talk, or I might actually get up and leave.” Liam snorted, head lolling back to stare up at the ceiling.

Zayn felt a laugh tumble past his lips, before settling in. They sat like that for a couple moments, Liam reclined on his back, while Zayn stared at Liam’s profile; the curve of his nose, the rose in his lips, his eyelashes fanning about as his eyes traced along Zayn’s room, like he was laying eyes on it for the first time.

Liam probably hadn’t taken too much interest in the layout of Zayn’s room the first time they were together though. They’d been a little busy trying to fuck the daylights out of each other.

Zayn resisted the urge to shiver. And the urge to reach out and snake a hand up Liam’s shirt. He just had this carnal urge to touch him.

“You stare a lot.”

Zayn blinked, eyes fluttering up from where they were tracing along the dip of Liam’s throat, up to meet his wide brown eyes.

“Should I close my eyes, then?”

“Don’t be a smartass.” Liam smiled, shoving at Zayn’s shoulder.

Zayn can’t help the smile that cracks over his face, and even though he and Liam know near to nothing about each other, talking to him feels like the easiest thing in the world.

“Well, I can’t exactly help it. You’re a great lay.” Zayn murmured, letting out a deep breath, “And not exactly bad to look at either.”

“You’re an arsehole, but you amuse me.” Liam snorted, reaching over to flick Zayn on the arm. “But you happen to be a great lay. You talk out of your arse a lot of the time, but I haven’t really found myself not enjoying your company.”

One corner of Zayn’s lips pulled up into a smile.

As they laid there, Zayn listened to the echoes of questions running through his head. He wanted to ask so many things, practically itching to say anything to avoid long stretches of silence.

“Why are you doing this?”

Liam blinked out of his daze, staring across at Zayn like he knew what the question was implying, but didn’t quite want to act so knowing. “What do you mean?”

_“This.”_ Zayn said, gesturing towards Liam’s chest. “Did you just wake up one day and decide that you’d be happiest selling your body? Was it something you’d wanted to do for a while?”

Liam’s lips, parted as they were, like he was about to speak, closed. His gaze flickered between each of Zayn’s eyes, holding his stare, without showing an inclination of answering the question.

“No? I don’t get an answer?” Zayn lifted an eyebrow, before nodding. “Okay, what about university. Did you ever attend one of those?”

Zayn thought he maybe saw a smile tugging at one corner of Liam’s mouth, but it was gone before it could form. He stayed silent.

“Okay, no answer for that either. How about…” Zayn sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth as he ran through other possible questions. “What about your parents? Do they know you do this? Do you talk to them? Do they live close?”

Liam’s expressions stayed stoic. Stony, almost. And still, he gave nothing away.

“Alright. How about your childhood. What did you want to be when you grew up?” He paused, eyes searching between his. “Did you have a pet? Did you enjoy kindergarten? Did you complain about having a bed time?”

Liam’s stare was unwavering, and all Zayn got was a wrinkle of his nose, like he maybe had an itch, before his face went still.

“Were you afraid the first time you got a client? Have you ever had a client that made you uncomfortable, or anyone with really awkward requests?”

Zayn closed his mouth after that, reaching out to trace his finger tips along Liam’s chin, brushing over short, scruffy hairs. There was a tiny scar just underneath the swell of it, and he thumbed over it for a few moments, before moving on to cup his hand along the lines of his jaw, unshaven and jutting out beneath his skin.

He could feel little swipes of cool air every time Liam exhaled, and his eyes were steady, sweeps of brown staring blankly at him, although there was something a little more engaging there, and the air between them felt charged, like maybe Zayn had struck just the right cord.

He moved his hand up, brushing over Liam’s cheekbone, the skin slightly pink as it always seemed to be.

He let his fingers drag along his eyebrows, then down, feather light on each eyelid. He traced the profile of Liam’s nose, from the very top of the bridge and down to the tip.

“What are you doing?”

Liam’s voice pulled Zayn out of his head for a minute, but it was soft and rough like maybe he’d drifted in and out of drowsiness.

“I don’t know.” Zayn admitted, hand stilling. “Is this not okay?”

Liam shrugged the shoulder that he could. “You tell me.”

“I don’t make the rules regarding what you’re comfortable with versus what I’m comfortable with.” Zayn pointed out, “Tell me to stop, if you want me to.”

He waited for Liam to speak up, or tell Zayn to fuck off unless he was planning to settle his tab.

Instead, Zayn let out a very sophisticated, “Oh,” when he felt a hand come up to rest on his ribcage, bleeding warmth through Zayn’s shirt.

“You’re probably the gayest straight man I think I’ve ever met.” Liam snorted, pulling Zayn in by the waist.

_“Really?”_ Zayn let a little hum slip, impressed. “I hardly think that’s possible when you sleep with uptight, married men who have children. I can’t possibly beat that.”

“I must be good, then.” Liam smiled, amusement twisting his lips.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Liam’s lips pursed up, “For men who claim to be very....well, straight, a lot of them seem to flock to me. I’m not sure if it’s a me thing, or just a closet case thing.”

“Modest, are you?” Zayn snorted.

“Shut up.” Liam laughed, giving Zayn’s side a squeeze.

Zayn’s chest felt heavier and heavier as Liam’s hand traveled further up his body, sliding along the side of his neck until he felt fingers bury themselves in Zayn’s hair, tugging at a couple strands, never too rough.

“I’m going to let you initiate this. Again.” Liam murmured, voice airy, as his tongue traced over his lips.

Zayn followed the movement with his eyes, “You always do.”

“It’s kind of like damage control.” He shrugged, offering only a coy smile. “If you lash out on me someday for...tempting you, or some shit, I can always come back with the fact that you were the instigator.”

Zayn snorted, “You do this with all your clients?”

“Nope. Not all of them, at least.” he murmured, patting Zayn on the cheek. “Don’t always have to.” He winked.

Zayn rolled his eyes. “God, the one male prostitute that I actually sleep with turns out to be a dork. This is--”

Zayn didn’t quite get to finish his sentence, warm lips cutting him off. It wasn’t soft or sweet, but rushed and sloppy. Lips slid firmly along his, nipping and biting and sucking. Their teeth clacked as Zayn bunched his hand in the front of Liam’s shirt, yanking them both together.

“I remember telling you not to call me a prostitute.” Liam’s teeth sunk into Zayn’s bottom lip, grazing him, never too gentle.

Zayn eyes blinked open as he pressed his tongue to the seal of Liam’s lips, parting them, and licking into his mouth. “Fine, you’re the dorkiest call boy I’ve ever--”

“Just hush.” Liam grunted, hand going down to root itself to Zayn’s side, pulling him by the belt loop, until he was sat atop Liam’s lap, straddling his hips.

Zayn could already feel Liam hard in his jeans, a nice thick pressure against the back of his thigh, and god, he missed this already. He didn’t want Liam to be gentle this time, and while they weren’t particularly gentle the last go around, he wanted bruises on his skin from fingers, teeth, anything. Just wanted Liam to mark him up, so it would feel less like a dream when Zayn would think about it later.

He felt hands grapple down low to grab for the hem of his shirt, shucking it up Zayn’s chest until Zayn was forced to raise his hands over his head, letting Liam yank his shirt off, and toss it in the vague direction of his closet. And then hands were travelling around and between his legs, and maybe he was already embarrassingly hard from nothing more than Liam just being Liam, but he was really in no mindset to care, when he felt the material be yanked down his hips. He rolled off Liam for just a second, shuffling out of his sweats, cursing under his breath as one of his legs got caught for a second.

  
Liam was on him in a moment or less, crawling up in between Zayn’s legs, and already Zayn’s legs went to wrap around his waist, holding him in a vice, and tightening as Liam’s lips crashed down into his, tongue pressing out to swipe along his bottom lip, before delving in further.

Zayn thought it was unfair for a second: Liam being completely dressed still. He shouldn’t be allowed to wear clothes, Zayn thinks. It’s doesn’t do the rest of his body justice.

“I like kissing you,” Zayn mumbles in between slides of Liam’s lips, “But I kind of need you. Now. Let’s speed this process along.”

“Impatience will get you nowhere.” Liam grumbles, giving his thigh a squeeze. “Just relax. We’ve got all morning. And afternoon.”

Zayn whined, even if he kind of liked the idea of Liam sticking around for another restless session of power fucking until his sheets smelled of musk and sweat, but really. He needed him. Now was preferable to later.

He opened his mouth to go and protest, all until he felt a hand slide south, much like the direction his blood was traveling just then. He took a sharp breath when warm fingers started traveling up and down the length of his cock, already tenting in his briefs.

“It’s cute.” Liam mumbled. “You being so hard for me.”

“Shut up.” Zayn’s eyes flickered ceilingward for a moment, wondering how this suddenly became his life.

Liam snickered, nose bumping his. “Cranky and horny. A winning combination, I’d say.”

“Just,” Zayn huffed, hips lifting off the mattress just a bit to push into Liam’s hand. He let out a wobbly breath at the sparks it sent up through his sternum. It’d been too long since someone else had touched him like this, other than himself.

Maybe six days wasn’t really considered too long, but Zayn didn’t care too much about technicalities.

“Maybe this is why you’re so uptight.” Liam mumbled, palming him slowly, slow enough that Zayn knew it was purposeful. To agitate him just enough. “You don’t know how to relax, and let things happen.”

“I’m a schedule, and I’d be _very_ fucking happy if you just, ah-” he paused, eyes flipping shut for a moment when Liam’s thumb pressed to the slit. “If you’d quit being a prick, and actually just shag me.”

“Working on it.” Liam murmured, dipping down to press kiss down Zayn’s throat, licking a small stripe before biting down on that one spot, sucking a bruise there. “Time is money for me; I like the build up too much.”

“Well, I’m not actually paying you, so skip the build up.” Zayn protested, whacking at Liam’s shoulder.

“You’re impatient.” Liam snorted, lifting his head to kiss just below both of Zayn’s eyes, on the dips of his cheekbones.

“And _you’re_ fucking _slow_.”

Liam made a tsk sound, shaking his head. “I won’t continue until you behave.”

“You’ll be waiting a long damn time then.”

The air suddenly got stuck in his lungs when he felt hands wrap around his wrists, pinning them roughly to the mattress, so both of Zayn’s arms were above his head.

“C’mon, Zayn. Be a good boy, now.” Liam mumbled, voice low in his throat, as he nipped lightly at Zayn’s jaw.

Zayn’s hips pushed upwards, legs tightening around Liam’s waist. “Come on, Liam.” he breathed, impossibly hard now. If Liam would only reach down again…

Liam pressed a bruising kiss to his lips, letting both his wrists go to tangle a hand through Zayn’s hair, the other wrapping delicately around his waist, and Zayn ate it right up, hand circling around to grab at the muscles along his back, licking up into his mouth like it was all he could do.

Zayn tugged Liam’s shirt off, the material so soft and silky, and Zayn thought that it must have cost a fortune. For a moment, he wondered how well-off Liam was right now. He had to be making buckets of money every night, so why did he continue to sell his body? It wasn’t Zayn’s place to judge, but he wanted to know. Needed to know with so many questions circling through his head.

He tossed the shirt off to the side, reaching down to undo the zip on Liam’s jeans, releasing the hold he had with his legs to help Liam push them down, and watch him clumsily shuffle out of them, and when Zayn noticed the subtle shake in Liam’s fingers, he knew he was just as eager.

It happened when Liam was pulling a condom out of his wallet, ripping open the foil seal, when a sharp ringtone buzzed through the flat, and both of them halted for a second, heavy breaths ripping through both of them.

Liam glanced over to his jeans from where he where he was sat, just between Zayn’s legs, before smiling apologetically. “This will just be a sec.”

Zayn was painfully hard, and ready for Liam, but he nodded anyway. Sitting up, he took a deep gulp of air, and ran a hand over his forehead. He watched Liam turn away, making a grab for something in his pocket, and pressing his phone to his ear without bothering to say hello.

Zayn’s head lolled back against his headboard, watching the muscles and lines of Liam’s shoulders shift as he mumbled to whoever it was on the other line.

For a minute, Zayn considered reaching out to touch him, especially when Liam seemed to go a little rigid, before slouching in something that resembled defeat, but thought better of it, tucking his hands under his thighs.

Liam muttered something in a hushed tone, left hand making small gestures now and then. It was until he pulled the phone away, and hung up that Zayn frowned. He scooted up towards Liam’s back, resting his chin on his shoulder. “Everything okay?”

Liam was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry about this.” he mumbled, carefully ducking his shoulder out from under where Zayn’s chin was propped. “But I have to go.”

Zayn blinked, eyebrows creasing together in a frown. He took a deep breath, knowing he’d heard Liam correctly. He wasn’t about ready to ask him to repeat himself.

“Why, exactly?” he mumbled, glancing at Liam’s phone where he’d left it on the bed spread. “I don’t want to sound like a dick, and ask you to stay and finish me off, but...I’m kind of about to burst here, Liam.”

Liam didn’t show so much as a smile at the jape, and instead stood, wandering around to gather up his clothes, hands grappling everywhere like he wasn’t sure what to touch. Zayn watched him struggle as he frantically attempted to pull on his jeans in one quick swoop, nearly toppling over twice.

“I had something scheduled today that I completely forgot about.” He explained in a rush, turning his head to offer Zayn something like a silent apology. “Believe me, I’d like to finish you off. Can we take a rain check, maybe?”

Zayn’s face twisted, like he was tasting something bitter on his tongue. “A rain check? Really?” he let out a deep breath, before shrugging. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

He watched Liam’s head snap towards him in his peripheral, although he didn’t bother to meet Liam’s gaze. He knew he sounded selfish, and petulant, but he also felt something like rejection, and it wasn’t a feeling he was particularly fond of.

“Zayn, I’m not trying to be an arsehole here. I’ve got other things that I just can’t get out of to be here with you.” he mumbled, pulling on his shirt. “I’d really like to, and I’m sorry.” he explained softly.

“Is it an emergency meeting with a client?”

“What?”

“This scheduled event.” Zayn elaborated. “Are you late fucking someone else?” He turned his head to watch Liam’s expression twist into something that looked part incredulous and part disgusted.

“That’s not really any of your business, Zayn.” He mumbled, eyes glaring at the floor as he stooped down to pull his socks on. “I don’t discuss my clients with people.”

“So, it is a client.”

He watched Liam stop, and stare at him, jaw slack and gaping like Zayn had just sprouted a third head.

“I can’t believe you right now.” He mumbled, pink lips arching downwards. “I know you have a problem with my lifestyle, whether you like to say so or not, but you have no right to stick your nose into my affairs, and then make me feel like shit when I have other obligations to keep.”

“I don’t even get why you do this.” Zayn said, voice raising a bit louder. “What’s wrong with working jobs like everyone else? Do you like getting fucked by old men who probably don’t give two shits about you?”

“What I do with my body is none of your business.” He said, voice steadily getting angrier as he shoved his phone into his pocket. “And that’s rich coming from the guy who’s so deep in the closet, he’s practically fucking lost in it.”

“Really? That’s what’s rich?” Zayn blanched, folding his arms across his chest. “Coming from the guy who puts on a mask, and pretends to like the guys he fucks. It’s all one big show for you; the things they make you say and do are bought with money. It’s not real, Liam.”

Liam let out something like a scoff, although it sounded far more laced in disbelief. “Fuck, I can’t even believe I let myself be sucked in by you again. I-”

“I can’t believe you just fucking left.”

Liam paused, eyebrows drawing together in a frown as he turned his gaze on Zayn, staring incredulously. “What?”

“You _left.”_ Zayn spat, glaring heatedly. “That first night. You didn’t even wake me up to say goodbye, you didn’t call to see if I was alright, you just fucking dropped out of here like you couldn’t leave fast enough.”

Liam’s expression softened, just for a moment, before anger was pulling at his features again. “No, you know what? You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Zayn blinked, “You are?”

Liam nodded, taking a few steps closer to Zayn. “Yes. I’m sorry.” He licked his lips, “I’m sorry I took an interest in you. I’m sorry I got distracted by your pretty mouth, and your eyes, and your stupid fucking charm. I’m sorry I was ever drawn in by your witty, sarcastic bullshit. I’m sorry I took you home that night. I’m sorry I ever fucked you in the first place.” he took a deep breath, eyes skimming over Zayn’s face. “Clearly you weren’t ready for it.”

Liam wasn’t even calling him names, but somehow his words stung. They fucking hurt.

“You won’t have to again.” Zayn mumbled, words quiet and heated.

“Good, because I’m not your fucking punching bag, Zayn.” Liam spoke, although all the malice from his voice had disappeared. “I’m sure in your day-to-day life, you’re actually a kind person. But we’re very different people, and since you’ve got some fundamental problem with who I am and how I live my life, then…” he trailed off, bottom lip trembling for a moment. “Don’t ever come looking for me again.”

_“What?”_

“Don’t. _Ever._ Come. For me. Again.” Liam repeated, enunciating each word. “I’m tired of running in circles around you. I’m tired of playing coy. I’m tired. Find another prostitute who finds your prejudice hot, or something. It can’t be me, though.”

Zayn felt numb. His hands felt cold, and useless laying at his sides. His tongue felt heavy and too thick in his mouth. His heart was rushing, but not in that happy, nerve-wracking way. It thudded heavily, and each pulse of blood running through him felt too warm.

“I haven’t paid you.” Zayn mumbled. It was the only thing he could think of to say.

Liam’s expression softened into something like hurt. “I never asked you to pay.” he mumbled, making sure everything was in his wallet, before tucking it into his back pocket. “Don’t worry about it.”

Zayn’s head felt too heavy to hold up. He didn’t know if it was tears that pricked at his eyes, but something had him ducking his head, running a hand through his hair, a million emotions pulsing through him.

“Goodbye, Zayn.” He heard Liam’s voice. His voice that was always so sweet, and almost too kind for the body it inhabited.

He nearly jumped out of his fucking skin when he felt soft lips press to his forehead, and glanced up only to realize two things: yes, he’d been crying just a little, judging by the wetness of his cheeks, and Liam was most definitely leaving.

He watched the boy walk towards his bedroom door, open it, step out, and leave it cracked.

Distantly, Zayn heard the bolt on the door click, thudding open heavily, and the door, which stuck occasionally, was pulled open.

And then it closed, and Liam was gone.

Zayn glanced down at himself, feeling completely ridiculous in nothing but a pair of briefs.

He slowly reached down, grabbing for his shirt and pants, and gingerly pulled them on, like every movement hurt.

Maybe every movement did hurt.

He closed his eyes once dressed, and leaned back into his pillow.

What sucked about Liam coming over was that, when he left, his smell remained, and so everything smelled like him. The pillows, the sheets, Zayn’s clothes, the fucking air.

It was like his flat and Liam both were teaming up to slowly suffocate Zayn.

It was working, he thought distantly, balling his hands up into fists, and pressing them over his eyes.

He wasn’t sure who he was mad at more: himself or the fucking alarm clock on his nightstand that decided it was a brilliant fucking idea to go off whenever the fuck it wanted to.

It blared loudly in Zayn’s ear, and it was all he could do not to stand up and stomp the fucking thing into oblivion.

He reached over to pound on it with his fist, listening to it crackle before shutting off, leaving him in an overwhelming blanket of quiet.

He wanted Liam here.

He didn’t even want to fuck. He just wanted someone to touch. Someone to breathe in. Someone to stare at, and hold him while Zayn sat in self-loathing.

He fucked everything up.

He’d fucked up every relationship he’d ever been in, which wasn’t many admittedly. He’d fucked up living with his parents, and even though they got on fine now, home life had been hell every time he snuck out at one in the morning, only to come back and find his parents worried, relieved, and furious. He’d fucked up that one art history course he took, even though he’d been really invested in the material, but just didn’t want to do the work.

And then he had to go, open his big fucking mouth, and ruin things with Liam. Again.

They weren’t in a relationship, and they were never going to be, but Zayn liked having someone to talk to, who also doubled as a fuck buddy.

He wasn’t about to go and fuck Louis, unless things got desperate. He’d honestly rather drown himself.

“It’s okay.” he mumbled to himself when he felt his nose tingle. Always the precursor for tears. “It’s fine. I’m okay. I’m fine. I’m fine.” he repeated to himself over and over.

If he said it enough, maybe he could start to pretend that things were really okay.

He wouldn’t sleep again.

\----

That was how Louis found him later.

Zayn was only pulled out of his thoughts hours later when he heard a key slide into the lock, twist, and a small grunt as Louis tried to shove the heavy door open.

And then Zayn felt something thin and papery, and somehow heavy, smack him in the face, and the smell of fresh bread wafted through the air.

“Brought you a bagel, you twat.” he heard Louis mumbled, flopping down to sit on his bed.

Zayn pulled the paper bag off his face, wrinkling his nose up at Louis. “Handing it to me nicely is what civilized people do, Lou.”

He watched Louis go to laugh, before his entire expression fell. “Are you okay? You look a mite dreadful. Still tired?” he mumbled, reaching down to press the back of his hand to Zayn’s forehead.

Zayn considered telling him everything, and crying like an infant. Louis would console him, rub his back, make some jape about Zayn slobbering on his shirt, and that would be that.

Zayn didn’t want to come out with it, though. He was embarrassed, and ashamed worst of all.

He’d tell Louis about it, but today wasn’t the day.

“I’m okay.” he mumbled, reaching up to pluck Louis’ hand off of his forehead. “Feel a little tired still. Mind if we order in food tonight?” he asked, knowing that Louis was a shit cook, and Zayn didn’t trust himself enough to cook without stabbing himself in the face with the nearest knife, or laying his face into a sizzling hot pan. Both options sounded kind of appealing just then.

“Yes, please. I’ve been craving Chinese food.” Louis looked a little more perked up then. “Maybe Harry can come over too.”

And he nearly forgot about that. Harry.

Harry was Liam’s closest friend, or so Zayn gathered. He wasn’t entirely sure, but he knew they had to be at least somewhat close.

If Liam told Harry what had happened, which he hoped to god that Liam didn’t, would Harry take it out on Louis?

Zayn shuddered to think.

Louis didn’t deserve to be punished for Zayn being a cunt.

“Yeah. Maybe.” Zayn murmured.

Worst of all, he dreaded to think what kind of cold treatment Harry would give him personally. If Harry knew, and he felt so inclined, he could tell Louis.

All the way around, Zayn had a feeling that there was no way he’d get out of this, burn free.

He felt Louis shift, give him a small, friendly thwack on the leg, before leaving the room, a bounce to his step.

Zayn glanced dejectedly over to the bagel lying beside him.

He loved bread. Any kind of breaded thing, really. French bread, pastries, flat bread, etcetera.

But when he looked at it, his throat felt dry, and his stomach churned.

He couldn’t eat, and he wondered how fucked his sleeping schedule would be now.

Instead, he pushed the bagged treat off the bed, and grabbed for his second pillow, hugging it to his chest.

Zayn used to think that people who smelled pillows or someone else’s clothing were fucking weird, but as Zayn buried his nose into the fabric of his pillowcase, he couldn’t help but understand why for the moment.

The smell of him was all he had left for the moment.

He felt his nose tingle again, and a hot tear roll down his cheek.

He itched to say sorry. To tell Liam that he didn’t care what he did, as long as he was taking care of himself, and as long as Zayn could be in his presence. To lose himself in those eyes, and that smile that was so charming and kind that it became infectious.

**  
**He had been saying sorry so often lately, but it felt like the only thing _to_ say. And now he’d never get to. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I tried to get this chapter out just a little faster. I didn't do a whole lot of editing though, so if you find any mistakes, I hope you'll forgive me. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who bookmarked this, left kudos, or left comments. Feedback makes me so happy, I can't even put it into words, and I'm seriously really grateful.
> 
> I hope this chapter doesn't bore you to tears. I tried to make it maybe a little happier?? Not sure whether I succeeded or failed in that division.

 

 

Zayn lived for pomegranate vodka and bar snacks that left an oily residue and salt crystals on his fingers, or so he believed as he choked back his fifth shot in under fifteen minutes. His liver probably wasn’t thanking him, but his head sure was.

Zayn knew how to hold his liquor, and hangovers weren’t typically too awful, unless he got particularly sloshed the night before.

He glanced over at the hand placed on his shoulder, clumsy fingers warmed by alcohol, and tilted his head up to see Louis’ perfectly disheveled hair haloed out around in his head, silhouetted by warm, colored lights, and a smile that’s far toothier and exuberant than is normally displayed by Louis.

“Congrats, you fucking genius.” Louis attempts to mumble in his ear, and instead comes out as a shout that leaves Zayn’s right ear ringing just a little.

“You too, mate.” Zayn raises an eyebrow, watching a pretty blonde drape herself around Louis’ middle, immaculately manicured nails cutting into his t-shirt.

It had been about three weeks since that morning with Liam, and about two and a half weeks since their midterms ended.

Zayn, being the studious fucker that he was, got almost no sleep, and instead screwed up his already screwy eyesight by reading textbook upon textbook, in the dark, which he’d gotten multiple scoldings from Louis for.

He was maybe a little smug to say that he’d scored fairly well in all classes. Louis had scored just slightly above the line of average in all of his classes, which he was adamantly proud of.

Zayn slept for nearly an entire day after his last exam, choosing to fuck off on all other pressing matters in his life, and just sleep all his problems away.

He didn’t see Liam.

He was doing exactly what he was told to. Never contact him again. He never lost himself in the bad part of town for the boy with brown eyes that Zayn drowned in every time he felt them on him. Liam could probably ask Zayn to jump face first into a ball pit of bear traps, big doe eyes and pouty lips, and Zayn would probably do it.

But he didn’t see him.

He didn’t pine, because Zayn wasn’t the sort of person to pine. He liked to get in and out of relationships, or in this case, a fuck buddy dynamic, quick and free of the normal break-up theatrics. Not being much of a sentimental person, he thought it was all bullshit anyway.

This, though…

He knew all too well that what he and Liam had was barely a concept. It wasn’t a relationship. There was no official fuck buddy arrangement. As far as they were both aware, they had more of a fucking-then-fighting sort of situation. That was Zayn’s track record, at least. He definitely knew how to piss all over a good situation.

He was still left with this ache. Like his stomach had been hollowed out, left to fester and eat away at itself. He hated it, because he felt neither sad nor happy. Just vaguely hurting and left to mull over everything that went wrong.

Some nights he found himself reconstructing their fight in his head, going over what he could’ve said. What he should’ve said. And fuck, he could be a prat sometimes. He cringed to think over some of the things he’d actually gone and said, and that was guilt inducing enough.

He worked extra shifts at work now that his schedule had cleared some, hoping that just maybe Liam might walk in, and Zayn could have one of those dramatic moments of repentance, where he’d fall on the floor and beg Liam’s forgiveness. And then he’d curse himself for conjuring up scenarios that were fucking stupid.

Everything was okay.

Louis kept him company every night, never leaving Zayn alone for more than five minutes, and while sometimes that struck just the wrong cords with Zayn, deep down he was pretty thankful.

With Louis chattering in his ear night after night about lord knows what, and the telly providing a comforting level of white noise in the background, Zayn could peel his mind away from coffee brown eyes, calloused fingers, and soft, feverish skin under his fingertips.

It was a nice distraction, he thought.

Harry still made appearances in his life, surprisingly enough. Zayn would come home in the evenings after class or work, and there on the couch would be a halo of brown, curly hair, and a wide grin that was in place just for Louis.

Harry’s smiles always dimmed some when Zayn came in, and he was well aware of that.

Harry would merely regard Zayn with a guarded look, and a small nod of his head. He at least wasn’t rude, which was some sort of consolation for Zayn, although he wasn’t sure whether he preferred the silent treatment, or if he kind of wanted Harry to shake him by the shoulders, and demand an explanation as to why Zayn got off on being such a prick.

It might’ve helped ease the guilt some, but Harry was polite enough for the both of them. He wouldn’t do it, Zayn knew.

And those nights always ended the same anyway.

Whatever frustration Harry might have been feeling towards Zayn was channeled through Louis whenever Zayn was kept up at night, having to listen to Louis’ bed frame bang against their shared wall, and the loud moans that echoed throughout the flat. Zayn would honestly try to be a little more nauseated, since it was, after all, his mate he had to listen to, getting fucked into a splendor, practically shouting encouragements every time Harry apparently did something right in bed. Which was a lot.

But life went on much as it had before Liam was in his life.

Zayn slept, not always well, but he slept, and that was the important piece. And maybe it should have bothered him that guilt had somehow given up trying to keep him awake at night, but it didn’t.

Only Harry and Louis did, now.

At least someone was getting off.

Zayn couldn’t even muster the energy to jack off anymore, which was a shock enough to him alone.

So, Louis had begun taking it upon himself to drag Zayn to seedy bars and nightclubs whenever the occasion arose, and Zayn went, because the promise of a steady flow of drinks, maybe a number, and a possible chance at getting laid again was just appealing enough.

Zayn’s eyes narrowed some as Louis shrugged out of a girl’s grasp, dropping down into the stool next to his.

“Who shit on your Saturday? Cheer up a little.” Louis mumbled, having to yell over the thump in the music.

Zayn rolled his eyes, tongue and throat still a little raw. He reached for a crisp. “I’m plenty cheery. Don’t be a wang.”

“A wang?” Louis eyed him, lips twitching slightly. “You’ve been highly uncreative lately, something wrong?”

“I’m perfectly fine. I think you’ve got someone needing your attention.” Zayn said, head tilting towards the blonde that still lingered just behind Louis’ shoulder, baby blue nails tracing over the patterns in Louis’ shirt.

“I think you might too.” Louis replied, pointing at someone across the bar, before disappearing off into the sea of people.

Zayn’s eyebrows knit together, but he followed the line of sight that Louis had directed him towards, locking eyes with a girl across the way.

Her hair was a halo of dark, tight curls that framed her face. She was all big doe eyes, so brown they were almost black, although he caught the shimmery blues and pinks from the lights reflecting off them, making them look ethereal almost. Her skin, picking up twinges of maroons and blues whenever the lights flashed, was a deep olive color, almost umber, and overall, she was kind of the vision of beauty, dressed from head to toe in white: white crop top, and from what Zayn could see, a white skirt. Or maybe it was pants. He couldn’t see her legs, thanks to the bar counter.

On any other night, under different circumstances, and maybe if he wasn’t feeling so confused, he would have gone over to her in a heartbeat. He’d chat her up a little perhaps, maybe buy her a drink or two, then wait for an invitation back to her place. He didn’t take girls to his, although for some twisted reason, he saw fit to take Liam home with him. He’d leave soon after her falling asleep, and forget her name in a week’s time.

Tonight...he just wasn’t feeling it.

He looked away from her lingering gaze, eyelashes thick, and crisp with mascara, and away from the smirk that held her lips in place.

He felt cheated, honestly. Zayn wasn’t even sure he wanted to see Liam ever again. He felt too ashamed. His taste for anyone else had apparently gone to shit, too. He didn’t want anybody. He wanted to be alone. He’d hate to think of anyone being stuck with him, anyway, since the only thing he was really good for was ruining things that didn’t deserve to be broken.

He turned around in his stool, both elbows resting back on the counter. He could feel the cold from the granite surface chilling his skin, eyes flickering out to see if maybe he could catch a glimpse of Louis’ ridiculous dancing. It was always a sight for sore eyes, if those eyes wanted to witness something equal parts glorious and horrifying.

He smelled her perfume before he noticed her presence, something floral and candy-esque.

“I was going to wait and see if you’d make the first move, but apparently I’ve got to do the work.”

The tone of her voice was harmless, teasing really, and when he looked to his right, the same girl from before had taken the stool next to him, nose lifted as she stared out at the crowd.

She finally turned her gaze on him, a couple salt crystals dotting the left corner of her lips. Probably from tequila shots, he guessed. “Unless my presence is unwanted.” She added.

Zayn felt a ghost of a smile tickle over his lips. “Couldn’t make up my mind.” he mumbled, cocking his head to the side.

He liked women who were typically straight-forward, and he thought maybe that was why he’d welcomed Liam’s attention so much that first night. He was charming, and insistent in just the right way. Forward, but not invasive and annoying. He knew what he wanted.

“I’m Tasha.” she said finally, reaching a slender hand out.

When he shook it, it felt delicate and small in his hands, her skin a little cool. When he looked closer, he noticed dark freckles that dusted her cheeks, maybe the odd pimple or scar here and there. A faint burgundy color dusted across her eyelids, and there was a smoky black lining her eyes. With or without makeup, he was sure she was beautiful.

He just...he couldn’t muster the interest. The intrigue that needed to be there for him to want to kiss her, and touch her, and get her talking. Maybe hear a bit more of her wit.

“Zayn.” he replied, finally pulling his hand away, before glancing back out.

Faintly, he caught sight of a feathered, sandy brown quiff in the distance, moving along to the music, with a girl plastered to his front, and a boy plastered to his back. A normal Saturday night for him, Zayn mused.

“So, do I gotta write out my intentions, or will you dance with me?” He heard Tasha ask beside him, all teasing smiles and pulls of teeth over her bottom lip. “Unless you’re planning on giving me a written invitation?”

Zayn snorted, glancing back over to her with a meek expression. “Do I come off as that much of a douche?”

“Kind of.” She agreed, although her lips twitching into a smile told him otherwise. “The upturned collar, and moody expression kind of reeks douche.”

“Thanks. You must have very keen senses.” he mumbled, a little tilt of his chin.

“Oh, I do.” She was quick, “It’s like gaydar, but for douchebaggery. My senses tingle, and I just know.” she joked.

Zayn laughed quietly, and, well...she had a point.

“So no dance, then?”

Zayn shrugged, shoulders hunching again, as he leaned back to order a beer. “Dancing isn’t quite my forte.” he said. It was a weak excuse, but maybe it’d suffice.

“Not your forte.” She repeated, her nose wrinkling. “I smell bullshit there, Zayn.”

“What can I say?” He replied, “It’s not really how these things go.”

“How does this usually go, then?”

He turned his head to watch her scrutinize him, perfectly shaped eyebrows arching up just a little.

“I prefer something quick.” He spoke, easily enough to be heard over the music. “Something easy.”

“Dancing is easy.”

“Not if you’re an uncoordinated fuck like me.” he snorted, reaching out for the bottle once it’d been handed to him.

“I think I understand.”

“What do you mean?” he raised a single eyebrow.

“You’re not here just to watch your friend get pissed, and possibly get a hand job in the bathroom.” she mumbled, eyeing him dubiously. “There’s obviously some gain for you. I’m assuming you’re here for a quick shag, possibly with a girl that won’t care too much if you offer her a movie first or not. Am I close?”

He felt half of his mouth pull into a smile. She was witty, and just the right amount of condescending.

And then he felt that hollow feeling in his chest again, ache with nothing. “Something like that.” he hummed, eyes raising ceilingward for a moment. “Although it is fun watching Louis drink himself into a stupor. I’ve got to get his arse home after anyway, might as well stick around and enjoy the show.”

They were silent for a couple minutes, both watching in resolute silence as people clashed together in a tangle of legs, and arms around waists.

“I can be your quick fix for tonight.” he heard her voice, silky sweet.

He stared at her, a little bit in awe, and somewhat in confusion. “Quick fix?”

She rolled her eyes, long eyelashes fluttering up to touch her eyebrows almost. “I don’t like relationships too much either. Just got out of one, and right now I just need one night to try someone new.” she shrugged a small shoulder, glancing at him like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m volunteering, I guess.”

\---------

The drive back to Tasha’s flat had been quiet, almost eerily so.

It was like all the chemistry that had fuelled their conversation had bled out, and they were now left with nothing.

There was a gaping space between the two of them on the cab ride home, and every street light they passed had regret growing slowly in Zayn’s chest. Regret that was slowly crescendoing into guilt, and then into worry.

They both crawled out of the back, each paying the cabbie their share, before making the trip up to her front door, and wandering inside.

“Nice place.” Zayn mumbled, glancing around the various pieces of modern furniture, and cream and beige walls.

“Thanks.” He heard her say, although her back was turned as she bent down to unstrap her heels.

It happened suddenly, while Zayn was between unlacing his shoes. In one second, Tasha was lowering herself out of her shoes, and in the next, she was storming up to Zayn’s front, grabbing into the front of Zayn’s shirt, as she stood on her tiptoes to press her lips to his, locking them into a kiss.

Zayn blinked as he was suddenly yanked further into the apartment, still wearing one shoe, trying to keep up with the bruising pressure of her soft lips, sticky with lipgloss, and the slides of her tongue, that was now suddenly in his mouth.

It was sloppy and uncoordinated, and they just...didn’t fit.

Zayn was fine with sloppy and uncontrolled, and even completely messy and clumsy at times, but this felt too desperate, like they were both reaching for something that was just out of grasp, and would always be out of reach.

He felt himself be guided down to sit upright on the couch, sinking into the cushions, and had no time to really reflect over what was happening, until he felt a body in his lap. She sat, straddling him, both hands resting on his shoulders while she licked, and sucked on his bottom lip, although even her movements felt forced. Like maybe she wasn’t as invested in this as she let on.

Normally, Zayn had no problems getting aroused to a certain degree. He prided himself on being easy to please, but right then, he felt nothing. Nothing physically, nothing emotionally. Nothing.

He tilted his head to the side sharply, hands catching both of hers for a moment, “Wait. Wait, wait, I can’t--” he took a deep breath, licking his lips. “I can’t do this.” He murmured, horrified that the words had even come out of his mouth.

Tasha stared down at him, big brown doe eyes looking sweetly at him. She didn’t seem upset even, just kind of lost.

She let out a deep breath, resting back on his legs, emulating something like defeat. “I know.” She mumbled, reaching up to brush a hand over her forehead. “I’m sorry, Zayn. I’m not sure that I can either.”

Zayn felt guilty then. Not of his own accord, but for Tasha. She looked worn, like she’d seen too many sunrises without any sleep the night before. He hadn’t noticed it too much before.

She crawled off of him, choosing to sit next to him instead, and rest her head on his shoulder, wispy strands of hair tickling Zayn’s cheek.

“I’m sorry.” he mumbled.

“Me too.” She let out a snort, although it was weak-willed. Her voice softened some then, “I guess I’m just not ready, yet.”

He took a deep breath, nodding slowly. “Believe me. I understand.” He mumbled, tentatively reaching around to loop an arm around her frame. He couldn’t make her feel better about her situation, but he could at least attempt to comfort her. She was a sweet person.

She was silent for a few minutes, and for a moment, Zayn was too.

“What happened to you?” She asked finally, reaching a hand up to rub her nose, like maybe tears were on the way.

And boy, wasn’t that the golden question?

“Nothing happened to me, exactly.” His eyebrows drew together for a second. He took a shaken breath, not at all sure if this was an appropriate story to share. “I, uh.” he paused, eyes shutting as he winced, “I met this...this guy. About a month ago, I think? And, uh. I took him home that night with me.” he paused, listening for any signs or disgust or revolt from the girl beside him.

“Is that it?” she asked after a second.

“No.” He mumbled, reaching a hand up to wipe around his mouth. “I mean, kind of. We slept together. And I woke up, and he wasn’t there. I don’t know why I got so worked up about that. Doesn’t seem so important anymore.” he frowned, “Anyway, he came over one day--he even cancelled some plans to do so--and slept over again. We woke up the next morning, and I just...just fucked everything up by saying some really awful things.” he paused, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t tell if I’d rather drown myself in my own sink, or find him, and shake him by those biceps of his, and beg for forgiveness. It’s fucking frustrating.”

He heard her give a small giggle, sweet and girly, before quieting. “You like him?”

“Well....yeah, he’s not a bad guy.” he sighed, “But I don’t really know what I feel towards him. It’s so...aggravating. And frustrating. And I want to see him, but I don’t at the same time. I’ve already asked for his forgiveness once, I can’t very well do it again.”

“So...you’re, like. A bisexual, then? Or is this your coming out story to me?” She asked.

Zayn frowned a little, eyes focusing up at the ceiling. “I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about myself in terms of sexuality, because i’ve never...never had a moment where I’ve ever doubted my sexuality. I was always able to appreciate guys, and stuff, but...I don’t know, never ever thought I’d find myself in this situation.”

He sat there for a second or two, trying to remind himself to take steady breaths. “Probably bisexual.” he admitted finally.

He listened to her clear her throat, shifting a bit to fold her arms square across her chest. “I am too.”

He blinked, pulling a small piece of her hair out of his mouth. “Is this a wind up?”

“No.” She snorted, swatting him on the leg. “I am. I think men are beautiful just as I think women are beautiful. I could honestly be happy with either one.” she mumbled finally. “In the end, we’re all human. Why deny myself one form of pleasure for myself?”

He smiled, giving her arm a light squeeze. “I like that philosophy.”

“Me too.” she giggled, like they were sharing something secretive.

“You never told me why you were feeling this way.” he spoke after their smiles had faded.

“Oh, you know.” She sighed, breath coming out in a whoosh. “Arsehole ex-boyfriend of mine. He had this major jealousy issue, and any time I would even go near a person of the opposite sex, he flipped his fucking lid. When I told him that there was no sense keeping me away from men if he wasn’t going to keep me away from women too, since I’m literally attracted to both. I told him he’d have to lock me up, if it fucking pleased him, and then he started calling me a slut and a whore and all this other bullshit, and at that point, I knew I was just done.” she finished, curling her feet up on the couch. “Don’t be mistaken, I’m glad to be rid of him, but I just...I hate when people see me that way. It was a long relationship too, and I trusted him, ya know? It just hurts when someone wants to make you feel so worthless for being who you are.”

They fell into silence after that. For about an hour or so, they sat like that, just curled up against each other, while Zayn daydreamed about honey brown eyes, and pouty lips that felt so right against his, while Tasha dozed off.

He missed Liam’s hands, he missed his face, he missed the tattoos that lined his arms. He missed the little grunts he made during sex, even if he found them dorky at first. He missed the way his cheeks filled with color every time he smiled, and the way his eyelashes fanned across his cheeks whenever his eyes slipped shut. He missed all that muscle that he was able to grab onto, and how perfectly he felt, filling Zayn’s empty side of the bed.

He finally managed to peel himself off the couch, carefully extracting Tasha from his side. She stared up at him with bleary, tired eyes, confusion twisting at her features.

“I’ve got to go home.” he explained, pulling a blanket from the back of the couch to drape it over her frame.

“Oh. Okay.” She sing songed, eyelids appearing to get heavier and heavier. “Thank you for being here.” She mumbled, wrinkling his nose. “And for not sleeping with me.”

He snorted, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Don’t worry about it. See you around.” he mumbled.

He watched her give a small, frail wave, before her eyes shut resolutely.

He gave her one last glance over his shoulder after pulling on his shoes, and quietly crept out of her flat, like he’d done to so many girls before her.

\---------------

Zayn was dead tired by the time he’d gotten back to the flat.

He didn’t want to waste any more fare on a cab, so he chose to walk, keeping a keen eye on where he was, and where he was headed.

He would not make the mistake of wandering down Liam’s side of the city accidentally, ever again.

He was just slipping his keys into the lock, when the door was yanked open suddenly and without any sort of warning, meeting Louis, who looked frantic and horrified, to say the least.

“Thank god you’re fucking here, mate, I was just about to send out a search party.”

Zayn’s eyes narrowed some. “I was out. You don’t normally patronize me for that, mum.” He joked, pressing inside the flat.

He heard the door slam sharply behind him, although he didn’t gather that Louis was terribly upset.

“Don’t be a smartarse, and just fucking--”

“Louis.”

Both Zayn and Louis stiffened, although Zayn was sure it was for different reasons.

Maybe Zayn had finally fucking snapped, and was just imagining Liam’s voice now to make up for the fact that the boy was no longer in their life, and instead, driving Zayn fucking crazy.

“He’s fine.” He heard Liam say again, voice the epitome of calm.

When Zayn peered over Louis’ shoulder, he first spotted the body on the couch, lanky deer legs hanging every which way off the cushions. The other guy, blocking the couch guy’s face from view, was clad in a zip-up hoodie, the hood pulled up over his head, and basketball shorts that stopped just above the knees.

When he turned to face them, Zayn’s heart stopped.

All the air in his lungs felt like it was too heavy, and burning as he let it out.

Those lovely, warm brown eyes held his, and all Zayn wanted to do was lay down and cry, because there was no way this was happening.

“What.” Zayn paused, mouth too dry to speak. His mind was running at a million miles an hour. “What’s going on, Louis?” he squeaked out finally, leaning against the door for support. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the scene in the living room.

Louis stormed back out towards the couch, kneeling heavily down in front of it, and when Zayn finally remembered how to move his legs, and ventured in further to find that the boy on the couch was Harry.

“I am going to fucking murder the motherfucking, dickless, cunt tower that fucking--”

“Harry was drugged.” Liam spoke, quickly interrupting Louis’ little tangent.

Zayn blinked past the fact that Liam was there, breathing and looking at Zayn like maybe this was the first time they were meeting, to finally drink in what he’d just said.

“What?” He spluttered, leaning over to get a good look at Harry’s face.

His forehead was slick with a thin sheen of sweat, but other than that, he looked just as Harry would, although his eyes were glossy and unfocused, darting anywhere and everywhere without settling on one thing for too long.

“Shit.” he breathed. “Should we call someone? We could probably get him to the hospital just in the knick of time, I could-’’

He stopped talking altogether when he heard Liam chuckle, airy and light. “It’s okay, this happens all the time in our business.”

Zayn gaped at him, and okay, maybe he understand why he got fucking frustrated with Liam sometimes. “Are you shitting me right now?”

Liam paused, eyes focusing in on Zayn’s face, and Zayn didn’t know if he could handle Liam looking at him right then, judging by the way his heart hammered in his rib cage.

“I’m not saying it’s okay, but it does happen. Harry knows to shoot me, and at least one other person, a text when he feels like something’s wrong.” he breathed, reaching a hand down to brush a sweaty curl off Harry’s forehead. “The only thing you can really do now is let him sleep it off.”

Zayn took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “Is he okay? Did...did the guy who did this do anything to him?” he winced, afraid to hear the answer.

They both watched Louis fuss over Harry like a mother hen, perched, and ready to kick the living shit out of anyone who came near the four of them.

Zayn was watching Liam though. Watching the way a fond smile pulled at his lips. “No. He’s okay. The hotel staff told me that Harry had rushed down to the lobby, and collapsed on one of the chairs. Guess he told the client that he had to use the bathroom, and just darted. It’s either that, or find a room or bathroom to lock yourself in. At least around hotel staff, you’re monitored.”

“Wouldn’t he have collapsed long before that, though? I hear those drugs are strong.”

Liam shook his head, “It’s kind of policy not to eat or drink anything a client gives you. Anything that Harry would’ve consumed would have only been in very, very small portions.”

Zayn watched a tear or two rush down Louis’ cheeks, as he closely studied Harry’s face, like at any minute, Harry would just evaporate into nothing.   
  


“I’ve tried explaining this all to Louis, but I don’t think he heard any of it.” Liam mumbled, a smile flickering over his features. “He’s sweet.”

“Yeah, that’s... Louis.” Zayn breathed.

Liam turned his gaze back to Zayn, finding that Zayn was staring right back. It was all Zayn could do really, because he didn’t trust himself to open his fat mouth.

Liam cleared his throat, stepping a little closer. “Sorry we’re intruding like this. It wasn’t a planned event, really, but I thought Harry might want to be here. He talks about Louis like you wouldn’t believe.” he reached up to scratch the back of his neck, something that Zayn found absolutely engrossing.

“No, no. Never apologize for this.” Zayn breathed, head whipping side to side as he shook his head. “He’s welcome here in any case of emergency like this.” he bit his lip.

Maybe the way he was staring at Liam right now told everything. How much he’d missed him, how much he wanted to touch him, how sorry he was. He didn’t know how to repent when he didn’t even know how to speak.

“And you’re always welcome here, too.” Zayn added, gaze flickering away, as he folded his arms across his chest. “In emergency cases, and you know...things.”

He watched a smile ghost over Liam’s face, serene and sweet, and just what Zayn needed right then, although maybe he needed a little more too. They’d never properly touched, Zayn thought. Not in a way that wasn’t rabid fucking, but maybe tonight Zayn just wanted to be held close.

“Thank you, Zayn.” He heard, and nearly jolted when he felt a warm hand curl around his forearm. “You’re very kind to let us stay.”

“Well, I’m not going to toss you out on the street.” He snorted, reaching over to brush a hand through Louis’ hair. Louis hardly seemed to notice.

“Maybe we should let them get their rest.” he mumbled, eyes flickering up to Liam’s. “I don’t want to be presumptuous, and all, but we’ve got now guest room, because we’re kind of poor, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to share my bed, given everything that’s happened, but I really wouldn’t mind if you did, because it’s just the right thing to--”

“Zayn.”

Zayn shut up.

“Can I sleep in your bed?” he watched Liam ask, and maybe there was a hint of amusement drawn up over his features, like he already knew the answer, but decided to humor Zayn, and ask anyway.

Zayn stared blankly at him, taking even breaths, before nodding. “Yes.” He agreed. He glanced down at Louis once, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead, before walking off to his room, not bothering to check and see if Liam was even following him or not.

He slipped out of his jeans easy enough, choosing to keep his shirt on as he crawled under the sheets.

He didn’t want to watch the door, and look like he was desperate for Liam’s presence, even though he totally was, and merely stared at Liam once he’d walked his way in a few minutes after, shutting the door quietly behind them.

“I wrapped both Louis and Harry in a blanket.” he chuckled, unzipping his hoodie. Zayn followed the movement with his eyes. “Louis’ doesn’t seem the type to be so concerning, but it’s surprisingly cute.” he mumbled, pushing his shorts down his hips so that they dropped to the floor in a heap, leaving Liam in tight black boxers.

He averted his eyes, feeling the bed dip next to him as Liam finally crawled in, staying just a couple inches away.

Zayn didn’t want a couple bloody inches between them. He just really, really wanted to be held, as pathetic and desperate as that sounded.

Color Zayn pathetic, then.

“Zayn.”

Zayn looked over at the mention of his name, watching brown eyes switch aimlessly between his own.

There was a long stretch of silence, before Liam spoke again. “Is it wrong of me to miss you?”

Zayn didn’t open his mouth. He didn’t trust himself to open it, and not fuck everything up.

  
He nodded instead.

“Why?” Liam asked, although it sounded more like a statement than a vague question.

Zayn wanted to tell Liam that it was wrong to miss him, because Zayn was Zayn. There was no way to put into words the many different things that ran through his mind.

Zayn was selfish for not wanting Liam to fuck other people for a living. He was petty for passing judgement on Liam trying to make a living. He was so wrong in so many other ways, more than he could name, and he didn’t know how to say it.

He kept quiet.

Liam kept quiet too, but only for a second.

“I didn’t wake up one day and decide to do this.” He murmured finally.

Zayn blinked, “...What?”

“Before I started doing this, I had almost no money, and somehow I had to pay for Uni, an apartment, and bills too. It was hard to find part time work at the time, and Harry helped me get into the business.”

Zayn blinked, still completely confused as to what the fuck was even happening.

“My parents don’t know I do this, believe it or not.” Liam went on, “Mainly because I never met my parents. I was in foster care for the majority of my childhood, and I don’t know why, or what happened to them, but I really hope to meet them again someday, despite the fact that I really love my foster parents. When I was a little kid, I wanted to be a superhero. Like Iron Man, I reckon. Dressed up like him, and everything.” Liam let a out a chuckle, licking over his slightly chapped lips. “Then I got a little older, and decided that I wanted to be a fireman. Couldn’t make up my bloody mind. Let’s see…” he trailed off, looking deep in thought for a second.

“I was terrified the first time I got a real client. I hardly knew what I was doing, although he didn’t really either, and even though he was nice, I was shaking almost the whole time.”

Zayn blinked, jaw going slack as Liam went on and on. He was answering every little question that Zayn had asked all those weeks ago, lying in bed. Liam had been silent that morning, and Zayn had been the one doing all the talking. The tables had turned somehow, and each answer felt like some kind of promise.

“I’ve gotten many odd requests in my time. This one guy had me sit in a chair for hours, and made me model all the different shoes he owned.” He snorted, “It was apparently some odd shoe-slash-foot fetish. And, let’s see...oh, I owned a hamster at one point.” he finished, staring at Zayn with everything laid out on the table.

Zayn breathed, mouth hanging open. He probably looked completely daft, but...maybe it was okay then.

He turned over, facing away from Liam. Reaching behind him, he grabbed for Liam’s wrist, fumbling around before finally wrapping his fingers around the damned thing. He pulled Liam in close, until his front was pressed tightly to Zayn’s back, and hugged Liam’s whole arm to his chest.

He never wanted to let go.

He felt a tingling sensation begin in the tip of his nose, and around his eyes, like maybe he was about to cry.

Zayn didn’t cry.

He had no problem with guys who did. It was healthy, even, because sometimes when you need a good cry, you just need to let it all out. But Zayn never prided himself on being a person who cried. It made him feel vulnerable, and miserable.

**  
**As he held Liam close, feeling Liam’s other hand rub circles into his back, while Zayn hugged his entire arm to his front, Zayn felt a hot tear push out from the corner of his eye, falling from the bridge of his nose to land softly on the sheets.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okayyyyy, sorry for the wait again! This chapter is a little all over the place, but I hope it's at least readable.
> 
> Just a little forewarning, there is a little instance of smut at the end. I am planning to do some more in the future, so, there's a little warning for that too. My smut writing skills are not all that great, so I will say sorry in advance. It's also super late here, so if there are any typos, I am sincerely sorry for that. I tried to address all of them, but it's likely that I missed some.
> 
> Thank you for all of the nice comments!! They're all so sweet, and I'm so thankful xx

 

 

Zayn wakes up with thick arms wrapped around him.

It’s probably the only time he’s ever felt really content when waking up, because typically, his wake up calls aren’t so pleasant.

Sometimes it’ll be Louis’ raspy voice, rousing him from his slumber, as he belts out whatever’s playing on the radio, or the sound of Louis’ headboard knocking against the wall when he decides to wank one out in that morning.

Zayn’s definitely not a cuddler, but maybe he should convert, he thinks, if being wrapped up in what could only be Liam’s warmth felt this nice every morning.

He shifts some, eyes finally opening and focusing in on Liam’s forearm, short tussles of light brown hair grown over some of the tattoos inked into his skin. He traces his thumb along a lavender vein, running from his wrist, until disappearing just below his elbow.

He pauses all movement when he feels Liam shift behind him, maybe in an unconscious stupor, but all Zayn’s aware of is the arm that’s wrapped around his middle tightening its hold suddenly, and there is no room between them as he’s pulled straight into Liam’s They’d fallen asleep pressed pretty close together already, but now there was hardly a centimeter between either of them with their legs tangled together.

He felt something in his chest twist when he felt warm breaths span the back of his neck, and something hard press into the back of his thigh. He didn’t really have to use his imagination to guess what that was.

He resisted the underlying urge to snort, head tipping to the side, just barely making out a fan of light brown eyelashes, and pink lips, parted slightly as Liam took labored, sleepy breaths.

Zayn hated mouth-breathers. The guys who slept like their jaws were coming unhinged, almost python-like, breathing heavily and noisily out of their mouths, with the occasional snore. But, with Liam, he found that he didn’t really care about all that.

He just wanted Liam to be permanent, as selfish as that sounded.

He wanted to map out every tattoo and unmarked patch of skin with his lips and teeth and tongue. He wanted to feel the borderline painful stretch of Liam inside him, while scraping his nails down that muscled back, or ride him like the earth depended on it. He wanted to ask him more questions late at night, and laugh at his stupid jokes. He wanted Liam to gaze at him with that everlasting fondness that sat behind that guarded exterior, and whisper dirty thoughts in his ear. He wanted all these things that were so...not Zayn. Most of all, he wanted Liam safe. Not fucking nameless, faceless strangers that maybe only saw him as something to stick their dick in. But maybe Zayn had it all wrong. Maybe Liam’s clients were kind, and caring, and had those same early morning thoughts that Zayn realized he was having now.

He swallowed past the lump in his throat, pushing his thoughts to the back of his mind to instead focus on the situation in Liam’s pants.

“Liam.” He mumbled, voice gravelly with sleep.

He shifted a bit, hearing nothing except a low groan from the guy behind him, possible just a reaction from sleep.

_“Leeyum.”_ He spoke again, pressing his foot back against Liam’s calf.

“What.” he heard Liam grunt, although it sounded more like a statement than a question.

Zayn swallowed the urge to make a joke of some sort. “Having good dreams, are we?”

There was silence for a moment, before he heard Liam respond, voice deep, and sending vibrations through Zayn’s back. “What?”

“Your _dick,_ Liam.” He cleared his throat some, stifling laughter. “It’s pressed into my arse. Having pleasant dreams?”

“Oh.” He heard Liam grumble, before he was silent. For a moment, Zayn thought that maybe Liam had fallen back asleep, up until he felt Liam’s whole body shift behind him, rolling himself away from Zayn’s body. “Shit. Sorry, Zayn.”

Zayn’s eyes lolled ceiling ward for a moment or so, before he let himself roll onto his back, massaging the numbness out of his right arm. “Don’t worry about it. It’s been literally _in me_ before, so I’d be kind of a hypocrite to have a problem with it now.”

“You’re right. You would be.” He heard Liam laugh, watching him reach down, and press down the semi he’s sporting. “Still. I like to think that an apology is in order if my cock decides to spring up on you, literally, when you wake up.”

Zayn shrugs, “Normal reaction for boys in the morning.”

“You’re not wrong.” Liam laughed, head tilting to the side to fix his eyes on Zayn’s, light brown, almost honey-like, switching between his.

Zayn held back a smile, before letting it happen, eyes skimming down Liam’s torso for a minute, before cocking his head to the side. “I could take care of it for you.”

“Take care of what?”

Zayn gave him this look, like _are you seriously not picking up on this?_ sort of look, before exhaling.

Liam stared, lips pressing down in confusion, before realization glimmered over his face. “Oh. _Oh._ Uh.” He paused, and Zayn couldn’t read his facial expressions well enough to get a definitive answer. “No. I’m okay.” He finally said, offering a smile instead. “It’ll go down.”

Zayn scoffed, “Or _I_ could go down.” He deadpanned, “On you.”

He watched Liam’s jaw clench, eyes widening, and there was a dusting of pink along his cheeks that were now lightly dotted with scruff. Zayn had never seen him look so exposed, like he’d just been caught touching himself for the first time.

  
  
“Or I’m kidding.” Zayn raised a hand, a defensive stance.

Liam snorted then, eyes rolling towards the ceiling, before focusing back in on Zayn’s face. “Pardon me, it’s not something I’m accustomed to hearing from you in the morning. Besides, as, uh...tempting as that offer sounds, I’ve kind of made a pact with myself to avoid any and all sexual encounters with you.”

Zayn reached over to shove playfully at Liam’s shoulder. “Well, isn’t that rude. And why?” he whined, not overly concerned with the fact that he sounded like a petulant child. “If I don’t get laid soon, I’m going to go out of my mind.”

“You just offered to go down on me. Not sure how that gets you laid.” Liam actually giggled.

Zayn was actually going to murder him.

“And why? Because. I don’t know how conscious you’ve been to the last few encounters we’ve had, but none of them have ended smoothly. And, believe me, it’s taking every last bit of my willpower to hold off, and fuck you into the mattress again, I don’t want to do something that you’re not entirely ready for.”

All the banter between them had been playful up until now, and Zayn felt his brow crease.

“Liam, I know me. I know the limits of what I can and can’t handle.” He mumbled.

Liam bit his lip, and Zayn stared at the bit of moisture left there, and the red that colored his lips that Zayn so badly wanted to bite and suck into a swollen, slick mess.

“I don’t mean to sound so...presumptuous in my opinion here, but...Zayn, you can’t handle it. I don’t mind fucking people recreationally, especially if I like them. You’re a great guy, not to mention, you’re kind of attractive as fuck. But you got pissed when I was called away for work. I don’t think you even realize how uncomfortable my work makes you, but I can tell. I’ve dealt with that enough, and I really don’t think I should have to put up with that anymore.”

They weren’t even together, and it sounded like the prelude to a breakup speech.

“Liam, I --...You can’t make that judgement for me. Just like I don’t have any say in who you go to bed with.” Zayn tried to keep his voice still, although it didn’t come out quite like he’d hoped it would. “I don’t know what else to say here.”

“Maybe,” Liam started, laying a hand on Zayn’s forearm, like it would ease the urgency that had his heart pumping painfully against his ribs. “We should just be friends. I like you. You’re nice when you’re not being a complete dick, and...I don’t know. Is it bad that I just like being around you?”

Zayn sat up, staring straight ahead at the adjoining wall as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You did not seriously just say all of that.” Zayn let out a noise, half a scoff, and half a snort. “So, you’re fucking serious here? You want us to sit around, braid each other’s hair, and talk about feelings before you go off and get penetrated by wrinkly, discolored cocks?”

“I am _not_ doing this with you again.” Liam all but growled, voice thick with anger that Zayn can tell is just barely being restrained.

Zayn took a deep breath, relaxing against the mattress. “I know.” he mumbled, staring up at the ceiling in defeat.

Off in the distance, he could hear pots and pans scraping against the stove. Harry must be cooking breakfast, since no one else in the house could cook worth fuck.

“Just...go out into the living room. Have social time, or whatever the fuck they’re doing out there. I have to shower. I have to get dressed.” he mumbled, unable to even look at Liam right then.

He didn’t know whether or not the feeling mulling around in him was anger, regret, or embarrassment. Probably a winning combination of all three.

He heard Liam shift next to him, big brown eyes scanning the profile of his face. “Okay.” He said, perfectly calm and composed. “We can talk later.”

_“No,”_ He shook his head, “Nope. No little talks later. We’ll have pleasant, no-strings-attached, mundane friendship conversations in the company of other people. Okay? Get out of my room.” He added, voice about as dry as his throat felt.

Liam sat up then, legs swinging off the bed, before he got up, dressed himself quickly, and left Zayn’s room without so much as another word.

\------------------

About an hour and a half later, Zayn finally dragged his pathetic arse out of the room, clad in sweats and a sweater, the hood pulled up over his wet hair.

“You’re looking better.” he mumbled, ducking past Harry in the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee.

“Thanks, Zaynie Brainy.” Harry said, voice chipper and crisp, as he pushed bacon around a frying pan with one hand, while mixing up pancake batter in large mixing bowl with the other hand.

Zayn groaned, letting out a choked, gagging noise, as he filled the filter with coffee grounds. “Do not ever call me that again. I’ll shave that pretty head of yours. Every last hair will be gone. Eyebrows and eyelashes included.” he grumbled, resting his forehead against the wall.

“Who shit on your Saturday?” He heard Harry laugh, turning to flash his green-eyed gaze on Zayn, who, for the better part of a week, had looked like utter shit. Which he still did, thanks to the previous night plus this morning’s lovely conversation.

“Fucking _you._ You and Louis don’t know how to be _fucking quiet_ when you’re plowing your dick in him. It prevents me from getting any sleep. Fuckwad.” Zayn moaned, knocking his head against the wall again.

He listened to Harry laugh, slow and labored just like his voice. “Not sure if you remember, since you were probably drooling all over Liam in heart-eyed awe, but I was more or less unconscious last night. And Lou slept on the couch with me. Right on top of me, all cute and shit. He’s so sweet. My eyes finally opened to see him asleep and drooling on my t-shirt.” Harry smiled, sickly sweet, sticking a batter-coated finger in his mouth to lick the pancake mix off.

“Yeah. You guys are the epitome of gay lover etiquette, but you know what? I’m gonna blame you anyway.” Zayn mumbled, grabbing himself a clean mug from one of the cupboards. “Do you want coffee, you curly haired shit?”

“Aw, your cranky, homicidal attitude is surprisingly cute.” Harry actually had the audacity to giggle, giving Zayn a toothy grin over his shoulder. “And coffee sounds wonderful. I feel like I’ve been asleep for months.” he grumbled, reaching a hand up to rub his eyes.

When Zayn looked closer, he saw the dark circles, heavy under Harry’s usually bright green eyes.

“Yeah, man, are you okay?” Zayn mumbled, pouring them both a cup. He didn’t know what Liam drank in the morning, and Louis always preferred tea. “That’s...I mean, what happened. That’s gotta be scary, right?”

Harry shrugged. “It happens a lot in this business, I guess. It’s scary when you start to realize what’s happened to you. Like...when you actually realize that your drink was spiked. I felt so afraid.” He mumbled.

“Milk or sugar?” Zayn cut in.

“Neither. Thank you.” Harry said, taking his mug with a grateful smile. “But, I have a few friends who do what Liam and I do. If Liam doesn’t pick up his phone in emergencies like that, I have at least a couple other people who will. Thankfully, Liam did. We have a drill, ya know? Run out into a public space with witnesses. And if you can’t do that, find a closet or bathroom to lock yourself in until someone can come to help you.”

Zayn listened, pulling the carton of milk out of the fridge. How Liam and Harry could go out every night, with even the risk of that sort of thing happening. Zayn couldn’t even imagine having to live with that threat every day.

“Is it worth it?” Zayn asked, “Going out every night with strangers, I mean. Doesn’t the threat overwhelm the need for money?” Zayn elaborated when Harry gave him a look.

Harry shrugged, “Liam and I are seasoned in this. You always run the risk in this business, and most of the time, we get regulars that we trust. That’s my experience, at least. There will always be arseholes and there will always be risk, but I’ve got bills to pay. So does Liam. In the end, as long as we’re taking care of ourselves, we’ll be okay.” He said, shooting a meek smile.

Zayn watched the dark brown, almost black soot color of coffee cloud over with white as he poured the milk.

“So...has this ever happened to you before?” he asked. “Has this ever happened to Liam before?” He asked, lifting the rim of his mug up to his lips to take a small sip.

“It’s happened to me a few times. Guys try to take advantage of me more than Liam. But we’ve both had run-ins like this. Not to this degree a lot of the time. Sometimes the guys will get aggressive.” Harry mumbled, turning back to the bacon. “Like, the ones who like fucking other dudes, but fly off the handle if you use the term “gay” or “homosexual”. Those ones are typically the ones you have to worry about.” Harry said, giving Zayn a shrug, like it was no big deal. “But Liam and I look out for each other. He’s like a brother to me, with all the qualities of a best mate. He’s gentle, kind, and someone you can fall back on when times get a little rough.”

“Yeah, I’ve got...no doubt that he’s a real stand-up guy.” Zayn muttered, taking a long drink of milk-riddled bitterness. He breathed in the caffeine steam, drinking in the smell and heat that steamed up his face.

“You two get into it again?”

“Not sure I want to get into that while he’s here.” Zayn mumbled, heading darting around like Liam could pop out from anywhere at any moment.

“That’s a big yes.” Harry snorted.

“Wait, does he,” Zayn paused, glancing up at Harry over the rim of his coffee cup. “Does he, like...tell you about our arguments?”

Harry raised a well-groomed eyebrow, lips twisting up in that little smile that he wore so often. “You’re a smart boy, Zaynie Brainy, you figure it out.”

“Fuck. Alright, I’m gonna go drown myself in the bathroom sink now.” Zayn mumbled, wandering out of the kitchen.

He passed Louis on the way out, eyes puffy from sleep, and what Zayn could only assume was crying. Poor thing.

“Morning, arsewipe.” Louis mumbled, clapping Zayn on the shoulder. “You look like shit.” he mumbled, side-sweeping him to walk up behind Harry, who was stood at the stove, and wrap his arms around Harry’s middle, hugging himself to his back like they were long lost lovers.

Only then did Zayn notice the pajama pants Harry was wearing. He could only assume they were Louis’, based on the printing of Iron Man that decorated them, and the fact that they hung a good four inches above Harry’s ankles. High waters. The half unzipped purple sweatshirt really completed the look, Zayn thought.

He snorted and wandered out into the livingroom, finding Liam sat on the couch, legs pulled into a crisscrossed position, and surfing channels, like he occupied this space every day.

“Please just pick a channel, and stick to it.” Zayn mumbled, taking a seat on the second couch. “Can’t stand the fragmented blinking of a million different programs.”

“I see the shower did loads for your mood.” Liam mumbled, settling on a news channel and setting the remote aside.

“Ha ha.” Zayn spoke.

He heard Liam inhale deeply, like he was regretful of the words that came out of his mouth. “Sorry. That was rude.” he mumbled.

“Don’t worry about it.” Zayn mumbled, tuning in to a woman announcing some car accident that took place on some bridge, and the minor lacerations that the victims suffered. “Friends forgive, right?” he mumbled, both his voice and expression going flat.

“Come on, Zayn, don’t be like that. What’s so wrong with being just friends?” And out of Zayn’s peripheral, he watched Liam’s head turn to face him.

“Really?” Zayn groaned, turning to meet Liam’s eyes. “That’s all you want with me? You’re going to sit there, and tell me that you don’t....you don’t…”

“Don’t what, Zayn?”

“That you don’t….I don’t know. You don’t see me in any other way?” he burst out, and even when the words left his mouth, they sounded all odd coming from him. “You think of me the same way you do Harry, or even Louis, is that what you’re telling me?”

“Zayn.” Liam spoke, voice even. Zayn cursed him for it, because his own voice wouldn’t keep still. “I’ll always have a fondness for you. You have to understand that I can’t-”

“You can’t quit your job for me, I get it.” Zayn said, tone clipped.

He stared ahead at the telly, knowing that he probably shouldn’t have said that at all.

“Is that what you want?” Liam asked after a couple seconds.

“That’s not...No. That’s not what I want. I don’t know.” He murmured, “Is a physical relationship too much to ask for? I’m content with just sex.”

“Well, shit, so am I. I’ve only tried to explain that to you about fifteen and a half times, for fucks sake.” Liam sighed, brushing a hand over his forehead. “You flew off the handle last time, because I left to fuck someone else, because, yeah, that’s how I put dinner on my table at night, Zayn, so obviously, you’re not okay with just a physical relationship.”

“I am, though. Last time I was just...I don’t know. I have momentary lapses of being a fucking dumbarse sometimes, and I guess that was just one of those instances.”

“Yes, it was.” Liam mumbled, looking thoroughly put-off as he stared at the telly.

They were quiet, both sitting in shared irritation, before Liam finally spoke up again. “I don’t get it. What do you want from me anyway? You demean what I do, so you can’t possibly respect me that much. Every time we even open our mouths, we get into a fucking petty argument, where one or both of us winds up feeling like shit. And then, you have the stones to blame me for your inability to tell me what the fuck it is you actually want.” He exhaled sharply, like this conversation itself was physically straining. “Do you want to just sleep with me? Are you attracted to me? Do you want to date me, and braid my hair, or some shit?”

“Would you stop...hooker-ing?” Zayn shot back. “As much of a stand-up guy as you are, I’m not interested in dating someone who happens to think it’s okay fucking someone else, or multiple people, in the process. Call me old-fashioned, but I just can’t get on board with that.”

“I’ve got bills, Zayn. I actually like eating food. And you know how I get food? By earning money. I didn’t get to continue my education like you, and I’m in this too deep to just…stop.”

“So, that’s a no.”

“I…” Liam took a deep breath. “Zayn, you just don’t understand. Okay? I do like you. You’ve got a good heart. Good head on your shoulders, but if it’s not a business arrangement, I can’t have it in my life right now. I shouldn’t have to explain myself to you, and honestly? You should just try to at least understand.” He mumbled, and from the silence that fell over them, Zayn knew the conversation was over.

“Right.”

Zayn jumped at the sound of Louis’ voice behind them.

“If you two are quite done, we’re going to have breakfast.”

\-------------------------

Harry and Liam had ended up staying for the whole day. And night as well.

Zayn put up with it mainly for Louis’ sake, because, despite how their relationship appeared, Zayn knew too well that Louis was completely taken with the curly haired bastard.

If they weren’t flirting, or practically drooling all over each other, or sticking their tongues down each others’ throat, they were whispering sweet nothings to one another. Something that was so sickeningly sweet and annoying at the same time.

As the week went on, the four of them became closer and closer. It was strange, almost. Coming home not only to find Harry on his couch, but Liam to, beers in hand, while Harry droned on in his honey-thick voice, about some incident involving handcuffs and two canisters of whipped cream. Zayn could never stick through Harry’s stories though. His voice was just at the right resonance to make Zayn want to fall asleep.

And then Niall was coming into the picture.

At first, it was just an offhand invitation to join the four of them out at a bar on a wednesday night. Zayn thought maybe it was to distract from Louis and Harry’s consistent game of cat-and-mouse, where Louis would make some snark comment, and Harry would try to come up with some sort of rebuttal, as they verbally ran in circles around each other, while Liam and Zayn sat aside, the air too thick to keep any sense of social normalcy between them. Occasionally Liam would ask him questions about his day, how exams and studies were going, and offhand questions, like what his favorite color was, or whether he preferred Thor over Steve Rogers.

They never talked in depth, though. And maybe it was on both of them for the lack of effort.

But Niall seemed to even out that tension.

He drank and cursed like a sailor, and eased into conversations as easy as breathing. Whatever residual awkwardness that was left between Zayn and Liam could be put aside, and forgotten with the blonde hanging around all the time.

Niall was also about as subtle as an explosion.

It was a considerable downside to the new branch of their little group.

Like today, when Niall had suggested that they all go to the zoo. For what reason, exactly, Zayn had forgotten.

“He gets discounts, ye know.”

Zayn glanced up at Liam’s voice, raising an eyebrow.

They were stood in front of the giraffe exhibit, watching the giraffes slink around, occasionally stopping to eat leaves, but all in all, they looked just about as disinterested as Zayn felt.

It was the first time Liam had talked to him in at least a few days, so yeah. He was paying attention now.

He squinted against the sunlight to look up at the boy next to him. “Does he? Is that why we were suddenly carted off here?” He asked, glancing around at the masses of exasperated looking parents, who looked about as impressed with the outing as the guy selling t-shirts, and their clusters of children, faces sticky with melted ice cream. Zayn wrinkled his nose. “And here I was, thinking he brought us here for the top notch environment.”

Liam actually laughed at that, eyes crinkling around the corners. That’s how Zayn knew it was genuine, and maybe he noted it a little too often sometimes. That was no one else’s business, though.

“As lovely as this environment is,” he wrinkled his nose. “No. He’s apparently been sleeping with the girl who sells cotton candy.” He added, resting his elbows on the railing of the exhibit.

“You’re telling me,” Zayn blinked, “That we were dragged all the way out here, to get tangled up with a bunch of germ-infested children running around, and a nauseating amount of cheery adults wandering around, so that Niall could fuck some chick in a zoo bathroom?”

“What? No.” Liam blanched, looking at Zayn like he was insane. “They’re in the employee lounge. Public bathroom sex is just nasty.”

Zayn laughed at that, covering up the noise with the palm of his hand. “So, you’re telling me that none of your clients have ever wanted to be sucked off in a bathroom, or something?”

He watched a grin spread across Liam’s cheeks. “Yeah, I’ve had my fair few.”

“And what do you tell them when they make that request?”

“Well, it’s just too fucking bad for them, isn’t it?” Liam bit his tongue, grinning shamelessly.

“Oh my god.” Zayn snorted, “Never took you for such a germaphobe.”

“Not a germaphobe.” Liam held a hand up in defense. “Public bathrooms are just disgusting. Honestly. Who wants to fuck in a place where loads of other people have probably...you know what, I won’t go into detail about that.”

Zayn snorted, reaching across to clap Liam on the shoulder. “You poor thing.”

“O-...oh.”

Both boys turned at the noise behind them, Zayn’s eyebrows wrinkling together at the unfamiliar voice.

Liam looked pale as a sheet, though.

“Liam.”

Zayn looked at the guy in front of them, whose eyes had never left Liam for a moment. His hair was greying around the sides, but Zayn could tell that at one point, he’d had a head of deep brown hair. He wore a loose white button down, and a pair of beige dress slacks, like maybe he’d just come from the office for a little break.

Liam seemed petrified in his spot, although his mouth had finally closed, and Zayn watched his adam's apple bob as he swallowed. “Hi. Jeff. It’s, uh...it’s been a while.”

“Yeah.” _Jeff_ beamed practically. “You look nice. Are you working, or....?” he trailed off, eyes splitting between Zayn and Liam.

Zayn watched Liam’s head shake, hands balled up and shoved in his pockets. “No, no. Just out with some friends. You look good, too.” he said, tone slightly clipped.

Jeff went to speak again, thin lips parted, however he was quickly cut off by a high pitched squeal, as a child of about four or five darted up to Jeff’s side, and behind them both, Zayn spotted a boy of about seven, and another, in their mid to late teens, looking bored out of his skull.

The youngest held onto Jeff’s leg, staring up at him with wide eyes. “I wanna see the el’phants.” The young girl blubbered.

Jeff let out a nervous sort of laugh, turning his eyes to Liam again. “Yeah, it’s my week with the kids. Debbie and I got divorced, did I mention?”

“No,” Liam shook his head, “Nope, you certainly did not.” He spoke, leaving it at that.

“Right.” Jeff breathed, and Zayn imagined that if the kids weren’t there, Jeff almost looked like he wanted to jump Liam right then and there. “Well, we’re off to see the elephants. Hey, uh. Maybe I’ll see you soon, huh?” And Zayn wanted to fucking slap the guy for looking so hopeful.

“I don’t know. I’ve got quite the schedule, but uh. We’ll see, okay?” Liam said, offering only a smile as an assurance.

“Yeah, just think about it.” Jeff shrugged a rigid shoulder. “Nice seeing you again. Have fun with your friends.” He finished, before guiding his kids off, but not before shooting Liam a lingering glance over his shoulder.

Zayn might actually throw that guy into the lion exhibit as bait.

Zayn watched him leave, before turning back to Liam. “One of the gentlemen from your late night encounters?”

Liam gave a short nod. “Yep. Kind of a slimeball, if I’m being honest.”

“Ooooh, _Leeyum,_ talking smack about a client. This is a first.”

Zayn snorted out a laugh when he felt a warm hand shove playfully at his shoulder.

“Don’t be a dick.” Liam chuckled.

Zayn bumped his shoulder against Liam’s, “Don’t look so glum. Is it...is it weird seeing clients out in public? I think I’d feel weird in your position.” Zayn mumbled, taking a deep breath. There was a tight feeling in his chest, something like a coil of tension wrapped around his ribcage.

“Yeah. It’s odd.” He watched Liam lick his lips, involuntarily following the movement of his tongue. “Thankfully it doesn’t happen too often. But...I don’t know. They see me so exposed at night, and I act totally different. Ya know? To please the customer, and make them feel good. All that shit. I just...I prefer them not see me. See my other parts. My friends, my family, my mannerisms around my friends and family.”

“You let me see it, though.” Zayn shrugged, looking at him for some sort of explanation.

“You’re not a client.” Liam mumbled. “You never were.”

They both stared towards the stagnant giraffes, watching them mull about in slow, labored movements.

Zayn hadn’t much of a clue though, because he was looking at Liam, who was looking off into the distance.

His bottom lip was bitten red and puffy, like he’d chewed it a little too much, and his eyes weren’t quite focused on anything in particular. His thick eyebrows were scrunched together, like his mind was scanning through a million things, and he couldn’t quite pick one to direct his focus towards.

Zayn didn’t know what compelled him to do it.

It was like he was outside his body, watching his hand raise up, watching his fingers dance along Liam’s temple. He watched Liam’s head tilt to face Zayn, eyebrows raising a bit in vague confusion. He brushed the pads of his fingers along the crease in his brow, applying a small amount of pressure, wanting to smooth out the visible amount of stress he saw in his face then.

Liam just stared back, eyes darting between both of Zayn’s, and then down to his lips for a brief moment.

It happened in only a moment. A flash of candy floss lips against his.

Zayn only had a minute to come to terms with it as Liam leaned in, eyes fluttering shut as he pressed a kiss there, and Zayn’s jaw went slack, his whole body lighting up for a minute. He felt electricity running under his skin, like maybe Liam was charged with something.

The kiss was gone as soon as it came, their eyes locked as Liam parted.

“What was that?” The question came from Zayn, and the obvious breathlessness in his words surprised even himself.

“I don’t know.” Liam mumbled, tongue and teeth running over his own lips. “Was that not okay?”

Zayn shook his head. “No. I don’t think it was.” He mumbled, taking a deep breath. “But if you hadn’t, I probably would have.” He mumbled, staring out at the grass again, shrugging it off.

“Yeah.” Liam said.

They both sat in silence then.

Zayn ignored the butterflies in his stomach all the while, fingers itching for something. A drink. A cigarette. Liam.

Zayn nearly fucking pissed himself when an obnoxiously hard clap to his shoulder pulled him out of his thoughts, and Niall’s laughter echoed in his ear.

“You two are sooooo cute. I’m surprised you’re not holding hands, and singing songs about friendship and flowers.” The blonde babbled, and Zayn watched him press a jovial kiss to Liam’s cheek, then turned to press one to Zayn’s.

Zayn wrinkled his nose, wiping his cheek with the sleeve of his jacket. “I sincerely hope you washed your face and your hands, mate. Fuck.” Zayn spat.

“I love you when you’re all pissy and irritable.” Niall mumbled, resting his head on Zayn’s shoulder.

“Piss off.” Zayn shot back, although the secretive smile that pulled over his lips told that there was no real malice in his demand.

“I think we should go.” Niall said, finally pulling away like a civilized adult. “Harry and Louis are making out right against the glass in the penguin exhibit, and I think people are starting to complain.

“Of course they are.” Zayn groaned, leaning back off the railing.

“Those poor children probably thought they were going to see penguins today.” Liam snorted. “I pity those that have to witness Harry and Louis actually try to devour each other.”

Zayn took a moment, letting Niall and Liam walk ahead of him a couple paces. He touched a finger to his lips, shivering at the memory of Liam’s.

\------------

Somehow, all the boys had piled themselves into Louis and Zayn’s shitty living room.

The couches were old, but they were spongey, and somehow, it fit all of them. At first, at least.

Harry and Niall had somehow wound up on the floor in front of the couch, passing a bag of crisps back and forth, and licking the salty residue off their fingers.

Liam was sat on one end of the couch, upright as he stared up at the telly, a box of take away resting in his lap. Louis was scrunched up between Liam and Zayn, one hand buried in Harry’s mop of hair, and another scooping up forkfuls of noodles. Zayn was gnawing on a couple egg rolls.

It was an ordinary sort of situation.

All of them grouped together, with a rerun of some sitcom from the nineties that they all loved and agreed on. Even if Niall’s initial suggestion involved porn, instead of fun family comedies.

In the span of just one second, something shifted.

There wasn’t any sort of slow build up, nothing leading up to this sort of moment.

It was so sudden.

The boys all burst into a shared sort of laughter at a clever remark made on-screen by a character. It was all innocent enough, and out of habit, Zayn was turning his head, looking to Louis to share the laugh for minute. Louis, however, was leaned down, lips brushing the shell of Harry’s ear, as he whispered things that Zayn was positive he wanted no part of. Past Louis sat Liam, and for some reason or another, maybe Zayn just couldn’t help himself anymore, let his eyes flicker over towards him.

Liam was already looking back, and all the laughter Zayn made died off in an instant. It was like he knew, with just one glance.

Liam’s eyes were dark, the light from the telly flickering off them like candlelight, and his teeth scraped over his bottom lip like he was holding back something incomprehensible.

There was heat behind his gaze, something carnal and primal, and far less innocent than his wide puppy eyes implied.

Zayn swallowed, licking the grease from the crisps and the egg roll from his fingers, and Zayn watched Liam watch the movement of his tongue.

He felt something in his gut twist, and his skin felt feverish in just a matter of seconds, and god, he wanted to jump Liam right there. Pin him down on the couch, and ride him like there was no tomorrow.

He tore his eyes away from Liam’s, diverting his attention back to the telly screen. He’d lost all interest in the plot.

He disentangled himself from one of Louis’ legs, standing up to get some feeling back into his own legs for a moment. “I’m, uh. I need to use the loo.” He announced, taking a shallow breath, before turning and walking off.

“If you’re gonna take a shit, turn the fan on.” Louis called from the couch, and yeah. Zayn really didn’t need to hear that now.

He walked swiftly past the kitchen, avoiding the bathroom altogether, to cross into his bedroom, not bothering to shut the door behind him.

He didn’t know how he knew, but he just knew Liam would follow. His thoughts were only confirmed when he heard the door shut behind him suddenly, and the room was left in silence, but Zayn could feel Liam behind him. Feel his heat, his breathing, his presence.

“Turn around.” He heard Liam’s voice.

Zayn did as he was told, turning to face Liam, who’s back was still pressed to the door as he stared across at Zayn.

“What did you tell the others?” Zayn lifted an eyebrow, “We can’t both be using the bedroom.” he pointed out, smirking.

“I just got up. And walked out.” Liam answered, almost instantly. “Come over here.”

Zayn took a shallow breath, before doing as he was told, and carefully approached him.

“You know what they’re thinking.” Zayn mumbled, placing both hands to the door on either side of Liam’s head, pressing in close enough so that he could feel their fronts mould together. Could feel the substantial bulge of Liam’s cock pressing against his left thigh. “What they know we’re doing.”

“I don’t honestly care.” Liam retorted, hand slicking down the front of Zayn’s chest. “I don’t care if they hear, I don’t...well, I’d prefer that they don’t walk in, to be honest with you. I need to touch you.”

“Then just fucking do it, and touch me, because I’m going a little fu-”

Zayn’s words were cut off when he was suddenly being whirled around, Liam’s hands secured on his hips as he guided him towards the bed. Zayn couldn’t help the gleeful smile that pressed over his lips, and fell back onto the mattress willingly. He pulled Liam down on top of him by the front of his shirt, the breath knocking out of him some as he absorbed the weight of Liam on top of him, and god, he loved that weight.

He wasted no time yanking the zipper on Liam’s sweater down and pushed the cotton material off his shoulders, going for the hem of his shirt next, hearing the fabric rip a little as he finally got it up and over Liam’s head.

“How do you want to do this tonight?” Liam asked, watching Zayn throw his shirt to the side.

They both helped each other strip down until they were only thinly covered with boxers, and Zayn finally leaned up to press their lips together, licking and biting at his bottom lip, like Liam always did.

“I don’t know if I have the patience for the full shebang tonight. I just.” He paused, running his hands up the swell of muscle along both of Liam’s biceps, and god, he wanted to do a million things to him. Or have Liam do a million different things to him. Zayn wasn’t picky. “Just make me come. I don’t care how, but I will literally come in my boxers if you don’t coax me there first.”

It had been too long. Way too long since Zayn had had any sort of contact like this. It kind of scared him how much he craved it from Liam now. Like he was dying of thirst, and Liam was the only source of water in sight, as fucking cheesy as that was to him.

“Yes, sir.” Liam grinned, and there was a sort of calm that overtook him, the movement of his hips slowing.

Zayn looked down, watching Liam’s fingers dance across his collarbone, and even a touch as slight as that had his breaths coming out in gasps.

He curled a hand around the back of Liam’s neck, pulling him in for another kiss. He licked along the seal of Liam’s lips, feeling a brush of tongue along his that sent a shiver right down to his dick.

“Touch me. Liam. Now.” He grunted, lips brushing over Liam’s as he uttered those words.

He let out a sigh of sweet relief as he felt warm, thick fingers go down to push Zayn’s boxers down his hips, feeling his cock spring free of the small barrier.

He blinked as one last kiss was pressed to his lips, and then Liam was moving down Zayn’s torso, sucking marks into Zayn’s lower stomach the further down he got.

He hoisted himself up on his elbows to watch, feeling scruff brush across the side of his dick as his cock rested against Liam’s cheek, while Liam sucked small purple bruises anywhere he could, it seemed.

“Oh good god.” he breathed, hips jerking everytime he thought Liam was getting closer to taking him in his mouth. “Fuck. Li. I was serious about the premature jizzing thing. Please. You can tease me all you want later.”

“I’ll remember that you said that.” he heard Liam mutter down between his legs, and he was unsurprised to see a smirk crawl over Liam’s lips.

He let out a deep sigh when he felt Liam’s thick hand wrap fully around the base of Zayn’s cock. Zayn watched in awe as he licked his lips until they were glistening and shiny, before he leaned down, pressing a fluttering kiss to the head, before his lips were stretching around him completely, taking the width of him easily.

Zayn wasn’t small, but he wasn’t huge either. Average, he’d say. Liam was definitely seasoned enough to handle him, he knew that well enough.

Still, he took him like he was born to do it.

Zayn let out an embarrassing whine as Liam swallowed almost all of him down, until his mouth reached his fist where it was wrapped around the base, and fuck, if his mouth wasn’t the most sinful thing about him, Zayn didn’t know what was.

“Oh god. Fuck. Liam.” he breathed, reaching down to push a hand through Liam’s hair, tugging heavily at the strands between his fingers. He swallowed heavily, eyes clamped shut.

He watched Liam’s cheeks hollow out, as he began to bob his head, giving the base squeezes here and there, as he licked along a vein on the underside.

He pulled up after a moment, swirling his tongue along the precum leaking out. “Want you to fuck my mouth.” He breathed, raising an eyebrow. “Think you can do that for me?”

“Fuck, you think I’m gonna say no to that?” he snorted, brushing his thumb over the light dusting of stubble along his jaw.

He felt Liam slap him playfully on the thigh. “Don’t be a smartarse and just do it.”

Zayn bit back a gleeful grin, before tightening his hold in Liam’s hair as he lowered himself back down, cheeks hollowing as he swallowed around the head.

Zayn tightened his grip, hips shifting up to bury himself in Liam’s mouth, legs trembling as he felt himself brush the back of Liam’s throat. “Fuck, you look so perfect like this.” he mumbled, hips fucking upwards.

He knew that this would be short, and messy, and honestly, he’d worry about the stamina portion later, when he felt like milking this out.

“Gonna come soon.” He breathed, stomach muscles fluttering with every upward thrust now.

He felt a thick hand curl around his hip bone, gripping tightly as if it were some sort of invitation to just let go.

He thrusted up faster, as he felt himself near closer and closer, every push of his hips less rhythmic and more carnal.

_“Ah-”_ he breathed, head falling back as he felt himself shoot his load down Liam’s throat, feeling Liam swallow around him with every wave of his orgasm that rolled through.

He fell limp against the bedspread once he’d finished, smoothing his hands over Liam’s scalp, as if to apologize for being so rough.

Liam pulled off after a moment or two, offering a loopy smile for Zayn once he’d surfaced again. “You always sound so lovely.” he mumbled, voice gravelly, scooting up to sit between Zayn’s outstretched thighs.

“Yeah? Well. You’ve got a bloody lovely mouth, if we’re exchanging compliments here.” He mumbled, still breathless and reeling from the sudden exertion. “And I’d like to take care of this, with your permission, of course.” Zayn mumbled, reaching a hand down to flatten Liam’s erection against Liam’s stomach through his boxers.

He didn’t bother to hide a smug, secretive smile at the shudder that rolls through Liam’s body.

Zayn sits up a little more, guiding Liam up into a sitting position as well.

“Kind of need your boxers off for that to work though.” He snorted, helping scoot the cotton, elastic waistband down Liam’s hips.

Liam snorted, sitting up a little to pull his legs out from the material, and toss them aside. “Do your worst.” he challenged.

Zayn rolled his eyes, reaching down between them to wrap a hand around Liam’s cock, the feeling of it heavy and pulsing under his palm. “Don’t get snippy with me.” He mumbled.

He flicked his thumb over the head, smearing the precum down the shaft to wet his palm, starting in slow, teasing jerks.

“I must learn it from you.” Liam mumbled.

“Shut up.” Zayn grumbled, leaning in to press his lips to Liam’s.

He stroked him a little faster, eating up every little noise Liam uttered into Zayn’s mouth. Distantly, Zayn could taste the bitterness of himself on Liam’s tongue, but it was easy enough to overlook with the sheepish little whines Liam let out every time Zayn gave him a little squeeze.

Liam came soon enough, the only warning being the way his whole body went rigid, before shooting his load across Zayn’s stomach and hand in cloudy white streaks, groaning and panting into Zayn’s slack lips.

Afterwards, they both collapsed in a heap of sweaty, spent limbs, and maybe Zayn was a little too content mapping out Liam’s chest and heartbeat with just his fingertips.

“What’s wrong with us?” Liam mumbled under his breath, staring up at the ceiling.

He turned his gaze to Zayn after a couple seconds, but there was only an underlying fondness there that Zayn wanted to see always.

“I don’t know.” Zayn mumbled, brushing a hand through his product-stiff hair. “We keep breaking the promises we make to ourselves. Bad habits.”

“Yeah.” Liam mumbled, and Zayn practically keened at the hand that brushed along his outer thigh. Only a gentle gesture. “Sounds like us.” he mumbled.

 **  
**Zayn found sleep very easy that night.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, super sorry for the long wait!! I meant to get this out yesterday, but ao3 stopped working ???? Anyway, I hope this chapter is okay, because I'm not sure it's as good as the last few, but I really hope I'm wrong about that. 
> 
> We're coming in on the last few chapters! I think there'll only be about 2-3 chapters after this, but I haven't made a concrete decision yet. If any of you have any ideas on what you want to see happen in the story, or what kind of fic you want me to write next, let me know!! I am so thankful for all of the feedback and such that I've gotten; you're all super sweet, and I'm very appreciative.   
> Much love! xxxx

 

 

Zayn’s life boiled down to these little moments.

The nights where Liam would slip into his bed late at night, clothes and skin dusted with cold from the chilly air outside. Their clothes weren’t usually on long though, and there usually wasn’t even much sleep involved.

More often than not though, Liam would crawl into bed smelling unfamiliar, like sweat and cologne that didn’t belong to him, and occasionally, while Zayn would waste time letting his lips trace along unexplored stretches of his skin, he’d find dark violet patches, only small enough for lips to make.

Zayn wasn’t bothered. Not one bit. Even as the sight of a love bite would throw him off guard, and he’d simply hover over the area for a second, thoughts dwelling on the other men lucky enough to buy Liam’s affections for one night, he couldn’t allow himself to be upset. He didn’t own Liam. Liam wasn’t his possession. And he couldn’t very well complain when they weren’t in a relationship, or in any sort of monogamous agreement either.

Zayn would bite his tongue, and carry on.

Even when Zayn stayed up well past three in the morning some instances, just to soak up any and all time he possibly could with Liam, and see him off in the off chance that Liam had a late night/early morning client booking that he just had to get to. Zayn still cherished and held on to the apologetic goodbye kisses he’d get on the forehead, and the feeling of Liam’s lips would linger there until Zayn would find himself drifting off.

The past week had somehow ended up being anything but structured, like Zayn was so used to at this point.

Niall, Harry, and Liam collectively seemed to gravitate towards their flat like flies to honey.

If Niall wasn’t there, rolling them all joints and stealing Zayn’s favorite spot on the couch, then Harry and Liam were, the pair chatting aimlessly while Harry stirred something in a large frying pan.

More often than not, however, it was all five of them together, either shit-faced, baked, or passing around greasy take-out boxes.

Harry was becoming more of a gem, it seemed, cooking them fresh, healthy meals that involved a lot of green things, despite Louis wrinkling his nose every time Harry started spewing the importance of anti-inflammatory, organic diets, and how they increased and aided in everything from academic importance to sex drive.

Louis secretly loved his cooking, despite his complaints, and typically the mention of increased sex drive would shut him right up. He had no complaints in that division, to Louis and Harry’s satisfaction, and Zayn’s distaste.

Even if Harry didn’t cook the things that Zayn was so fond of seeing back home when his mum would cook up large family dinners, it was still a home-cooked meal, and that fact alone brought about this weird sense of nostalgia, since neither Zayn nor Louis could be depended on producing any kind of food that didn’t come in a greasy take-out bag.

Zayn wondered how long this euphoria would last; he knew that the happier he found himself getting, the harder the fall would be when this perfect balance in his life would abruptly, and inevitably end.

That’s why some nights he fancied disentangling himself from Liam’s arms whenever he would go in to snuggle during a film, or push just the right buttons to get Liam to fuck him into the mattress, rough and messy, instead of fucking him slow and so fucking blissfully.

He knew he needed to distance himself a little. To sort out what he really felt and what it all meant, without honey flecked brown eyes distracting him.

He wondered internally if the balance that the five of them had created was crumbling around the edges already.

Despite Louis’ fuck-everything-and-everyone attitude towards life, and his easy, carefree smiles, Zayn knew deep down that he cared for Harry in a way that wasn’t just primal need and heavy fucking. He saw it in Louis’ eyes every time Harry had to leave for an impromptu session with a client. That lost, almost desperate look of hurt that flashed across his features, before it was quickly smoothed away.

Harry was just as bad, if not worse, at concealing his feelings. A crease would form over his brow, like it was physically straining to get off the couch, and walk from their living room to their front door.

Zayn wondered if he was that obvious.

_Of course I am,_ he’d think. _I’m too far gone already._

Tonight wasn’t a night to worry about that, though. Not when he was so, _so_ deliciously close to cumming all over his clean, crisp sheets that he’d been forced to wash after an all night session-turned-sleepover with Liam that turned his sheets into a sweaty, slick mess, thanks to their actions that night, and an incident where they’d accidentally spilled lube fucking everywhere.

Zayn buried his face into the pillow, wondering how it was even possible to feel this high without a few shots of liquor or a few puffs of a joint, but every slap of Liam’s hips against his had fire roaring under Zayn’s skin.

“Don’t slow down.” he begged, hardly able to utter the words. “Fuck, right fucking there, Li.”

“I think I remember telling you that you don’t get to talk.” Was all that was uttered in his ear, Liam’s voice rough, and fuck, he loved when Liam was rough with him.

The bed was actually shaking, an orchestra of creaking metal and wire, combined with the boom of his headboard cracking against the wall to act as the percussion.

Zayn was covered in a sheen of sweat from head to toe, and that combined with the sweat that gathered so deliciously over Liam’s tanned, golden skin, had every snap of his hips echoing loudly, bouncing off each wall. He could feel Liam’s ragged, hot breath blowing across the back of his neck, heating the skin there.

“Isn’t this technically already my, ah _fuck_ \--technically already my p-punishment?” Zayn snipped back, pulling his head away from the pillow to tilt it to the side, shooting Liam a cheeky, wound grin. “For starting without you? And is it technically a ‘punishment’ if I’m actually enjoying it?”

It had been true. Liam had shown up late that evening--almost two in the morning, exactly two hours later than Liam normally showed up--and, well...Zayn couldn’t really say he was good at holding out. Just the thought and anticipation alone of Liam had him straining in his boxers, and he couldn’t resist reaching down to give himself a good wank. Just as soon as he’d slipped a hand down the front of his boxer briefs, Liam chose that exact moment to walk in. Things pretty much escalated from there, and oh how Zayn loved Liam like this. All fiery.

He whined when he felt Liam’s teeth bite down gently into a patch of his shoulder, sucking a small, violet mark into his skin, like he wanted everyone to know that he bedded Zayn nearly every night now. Still, despite the fun, rough games they liked to play now and then, Liam still placed the gentlest of kisses anywhere he could. Like it was his way of showing that he cared.

“Yes.” He growled, fisting a hand in Zayn’s hair. “You started without me. Impatient.”

“You were l-late.” Zayn pointed out, eyes pulling shut as Liam thrusted into just the right spot with every fantastically placed thrust. Like he knew just what to do. “It’s kinda rude to keep a guy waiting.”

“Maybe I’ll make it up to you.” Liam mumbled, and Zayn physically shivered when he felt Liam groan against the back of his neck. “Multiple orgasms make you feel better?”

“Wouldn’t say no.” Zayn shot back, gripping the mattress underneath him as he pushed his arse backwards into every one of Liam’s thrusts, moaning without shame or regard for whoever might be hearing them. “I’m so close, Li.” He let out a shuddering breath.

The friction of the mattress against his cock is enough to keep Zayn edging closer and closer, feeling precum dampen the sheets. Maybe they should start having sex on the floor, he thinks. Washing his bedding every fucking day is not only exhausting, but expensive, and the cum stains are getting a little ridiculous if he’s being honest.

He reaches back for one of Liam’s biceps, digging his nails in, and every movement is the head of Liam’s cock pushing firmly into that little cluster of nerves that sends tremors through Zayn’s body, and his eyes lolling shut.

“I want you to cum, babe. _Now.”_ And Zayn can tell by the shake in Liam’s voice that he’s not going to last for much longer either. 

It only takes one, two, three more thrusts, and Zayn’s crying out, burying his moans into the nearest pillow, his whole body thrashing with waves of his orgasm and over stimulus. It’s such a mind-numbingly good orgasm that Zayn can’t stop chanting Liam’s name under his breath, his body jerking involuntarily while Liam still fucks the daylights out of him.

_“Fuck,_ Zayn. I--”

He doesn’t get to finish what he says before Zayn feels Liam’s thrusts jerk to a halt for a split second, and even through the condom Zayn can feel him shooting his load as he orgasms, pulsing inside him as his moans push out against Zayn’s throat, pressing delicate kisses in the hollow of his neck.

It’s bittersweet, Zayn thinks. How this can all feel so perfect, so blissful, so fucking real. He wonders how many other orgasms Liam’s had today with other men. How many other guys he’s wrecked like this, how many others Liam pulled orgasms from.

He shakes the thought. It’s too much right now.

All he focuses on is Liam’s cock pulsing inside him, before Liam’s collapsing heavily on top of Zayn, buried all the way inside him.

They both take a few minutes, because it’s been awhile since Zayn’s felt this completely stunned by an orgasm, because he’s still feeling it all over. Still reeling from it.

Zayn can feel beads of sweat rolling down the backs of his knees and thighs, and the moisture dripping down his abs, chest, and back. His head is still swimming with the intensity of what he’d just felt, and he’s still processing that, yes, this is real life, and yes, this just happened, and also yes, Liam is kind of fucking perfect in every sense of the word. He embodies the word itself, Zayn thinks. If Zayn wasn’t so fucking pathetic over this boy, he’d find it almost annoying.

He takes a few deep breaths, groaning under all of Liam’s weight, muscle and all.

“Liam.” He grunts, pushing up against where he can feel Liam’s chest pressed against his back. “If you’re alive and can hear me, I have a news flash for you. You’re suffocating me.”

He hears Liam let out a weak chuckle, the motion vibrating through Zayn’s back. He feels two fingers tap his ribcage gently, which is always the warning Liam gives before he pulls out, so Zayn grits his teeth, and holds a breath while Liam carefully extracts his softening cock, tossing the condom in the waste bin, before collapsing on his front right beside Zayn.

Zayn snorts at the wide, toothy grin he receives, like Liam’s just gotten all A’s on a report card, and out of pure instinct, he reaches over to push a hand through Liam’s sweaty hair.

“I think you might’ve just killed me.” He said, taking a few deep breaths for emphasis. “My arse fucking hurts now, and I can’t move, but shit, you’re kind of bloody amazing at what you do.”

He watches Liam grin at that, hiding a cackle in the fabric of a pillow. “You’re not too shabby yourself, Zaynie Brainy.”

“Do not,” Zayn starts, shooting Liam a pointed look, “call me Zaynie Brainy. I will actually kick you out of my flat. I have that power.”

“As you wish, my love.” Liam smirked, reaching over to tousle Zayn’s hair.

Zayn just stares, and god, does he wish that endearments like that wouldn’t make his heart flutter the way it does.

He’s so fucking pathetic.

Zayn lets out another heaving breath, licking his swollen, kissed lips, before turning over to lay on his back. “I don’t even need to go out and exercise. You kind of just take care of all that for me. Guess I can cancel that gym membership that I never use.” He snorted, turning his head to stare up at the ceiling, eyes tracing along all the bumps and rough edges.

To his side, he can hear Liam laugh at that, and scoot in closer, pulling the sheets further up so both of them can get an ample amount.

There’s a silence that settles over them, but for once, it’s actually kind of therapeutic. Like Zayn’s finally come to terms with the situation he’s in. He’s not content with his feelings, however.

“Something’s wrong.”

Zayn tipped his head to the side, eyebrows creasing together. “Come again?”

“Something’s wrong.” Liam said again, although there was a ghost of a smile pulling on the left corner of his mouth. “I can always tell that you’re overthinking something because you get this little wrinkle, right _here_.”

And then the pad of Liam’s index finger is pressing somewhere between his eyebrows, bleeding warmth into his skin.

Zayn archs an eyebrow, impressed. “Wow. Didn’t know I was that predictable.” he mumbled, indignantly snorting.

“Are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess?”

“Don’t be a prat.” Zayn drawled, reaching over to shove playfully at one of Liam’s broad shoulders, and yeah, Zayn had thing for his shoulders. They were always fun to grip onto. “I just. Uh, I was talking to Harry the other day.” he paused for a second, for some oddball reason, like Liam would just magically catch on. “The night he was drugged.” he shuddered at the memory. “Anyway, he told me a little bit about, like. The risk involved in your job? I think it’s just been eating away at me for a bit. He said you’ve been messed with once or twice.” He spoke, the last sentence sounding more like a question than anything.

He watched Liam’s face still, and could hear him audibly swallow. “Yeah. It’s happened.” he shrugged, like it was no big deal. “Nothing too extreme. Like I’m sure he told you, we’ve got a pretty good system set up for damage control. The worst I’ve personally experience is when a guy gets a little too rough during foreplay, or gets a little too controlling.” He took a breath, reaching under the sheets for one of Zayn’s wrists--they never held hands--giving it a gentle squeeze. “There’s really not a need for concern. I wouldn’t be in this business anymore if there was a serious risk.”

Zayn still didn’t feel reaffirmed. Even though the risk was small, at least for Liam, there was still a threat there no matter how you looked at the situation. “Okay. Say none of your emergency contacts didn’t pick up. What then?” he raised an eyebrow, challenging almost.

He watched a frown pull at Liam’s eyebrows, before he was suddenly sitting up, leaning over the edge of the bed to rummage around for something that was out of Zayn’s view.

And then he was back, pressing something into the palm of Zayn’s hand.

“Enter your number, and if I’m ever in a bind, or if I’m going to be late, I can reach you.” he said, like it was an obvious answer.

Zayn stared at the phone in his hand, shooting a look to Liam briefly. He pressed the lock screen button, and a picture of Iron Man popped up along with the time and date. He snorted, pressing the phone into Liam’s hand again. “You’re a dork. Enter your passcode.”

Liam grinned, typing in the four digits with just the tip of his middle finger, before handing it back. “Yeah, but I’m also the dork that gives you sexual favors, for free, almost every night.”

Zayn felt a smile bloom across his face as he entered his name and number, tossing the phone off to the side when he was done. “That’s true. Guess I owe you one. Or a lot, since I’m guessing we’re counting favors in orgasms here.”

“Correct.” Liam grins, walking his fingers up Zayn’s chest. “Speaking of owing me, I have a little favor to ask you. Kind of a proposition, if I’m being honest.”

Zayn raised both eyebrows, rolling onto his side to face Liam, tucking an arm under his head. “I’m listening. But I have to warn you, I’m not doing anything illegal, or being the third party in a threeway that one of your clients is just dying to have.”

Liam actually laughed, the noise reverberating deep in his throat. He reached across to pull Zayn in by the hip, pulling their fronts tightly together. “You’re an arse. _Anyway,_ you dildo, every year one of Harry’s regulars, a very wealthy man, throws this pretentious little get together--he calls it a benefit-- for his snobby, rich friends, where he can parade Harry around like a shiny trinket. Harry drags me along every year, and I don’t complain really. Gets me free booze, free food, and at least a handful of new clients who pay very generously, so I haven’t really got too much to complain about. I understand if it’s not really your scene, but--”

“Why? ‘Cause I’m poor?” Zayn mused, biting back a smirk that implied that he was pretty pleased with himself.

“No, shut the fuck up.” Liam snorted, reaching down to give Zayn’s arse a playful slap. Zayn kind of loved that too. “I was hoping you’d be my guest for the evening.”

Zayn’s left eyebrow arched up as he studied Liam’s face, his expression on the verge of apprehensive. “Wouldn’t I need a golden ticket to get me in, or some shit? Or do I have to sell one of my internal organs?”

“I can pull some strings.” Liam intervened quickly. “Or, well. Have Harry pull some strings. And look, I totally get if you’re not interested in going, but it’s a boring occasion, and if I have you there, I’ll be entertained by your sharp wit, and I’ll have someone pretty to look at all evening.” Liam grinned, and Zayn tried not to melt under his touch when his last words were uttered, feeling warm fingers massage circles into the dimples near his lower back. “But again, it’s totally not required, and I normally wouldn’t ask this of a...friend? Are we friends? I’d like to think that we’re friends.”

“Friends who fuck.” Zayn mused, nodding slowly. “And it sounds like a dreadful event, I’m not gonna lie.”

Really Zayn was just imagining the oodles of slimy, elderly men with fat wallets crowding around Liam like wolves surrounding a piece of meat, and that alone made the evening seem droll and wearisome.

“But I’ll go with you. That should take care of at least five orgasms for each hour I’m at this event.”

“Fair enough.” Liam grinned, and Zayn was almost positive he was imagining the pure joy etched into Liam’s expression. “I’ll bet you look absolutely smashing in a tux.”

Zayn stared. “I have to wear a tux?”

“It’s a formal attire sort of event.” Liam winced. “Kind of forgot that small detail.”

“Liam, I’m a Uni student, do you think I shit money?” Zayn snorted, shaking his head rapidly. “Guess you’ll have to take some other client.”

“No.” Liam intervened before the last word had even left Zayn’s mouth. “I mean. We’ll figure it out, yeah? I’ve got a few tuxes that would fit you from when I was less, uh...bulky, I guess.”

“I like your bulk.” Zayn mumbled, reaching across to give Liam’s muscled upper arm a squeeze.

Liam only responded with a kiss.

\------------------

“Are you really going to this thing?” Louis asked, standing behind Zayn in the bathroom while Zayn struggled to sculpt his hair into something passable.

Zayn let out a deep breath, because this was like. The fortieth fucking time they’ve had this conversation.

“Yes, Louis. Keen fucking observation, you dildo.” Zayn mumbled, running his hands under the tap to get the product off his hands.

“Did you just call me a dildo?” Louis gaped, reaching over to slap Zayn lightly on the cheek. “Gross.”

“You’ve had a dick. In your arse. How is a dildo gross?” Zayn raised an eyebrow, not paying Louis much mind as he fussed over his hair. Again. One fucking strand just wouldn’t go where he needed it to.

“Liam’s a bad influence on you. I’m calling your mother.” Louis huffed, giving Zayn’s arse a slap before leaving the bathroom.

Zayn followed him out a few minutes later, clad only in his boxers. He was sort of lacking a suit.

He spied Louis collapsed on the couch, holding a pillow over his face.

“Come on, Lou. Why so blue?” he asked, giving his socked foot a little pat.

“Harry didn’t invite me to this thing.” He huffed forlornly, Zayn having to force the cushion out of his hands to even hear what he was saying. “I feel an odd sense of rejection.” And Zayn had to suppress a laugh as he watched Louis’ bottom lip jut out in a pout.

“Awwww, lovie.” He mumbled, giving Louis’ calf a small squeeze. “This benefit is thrown by one of Harry’s clients. It might look bad if he decides to show up with you instead. Liam only invited me out of boredom.” he shrugged both shoulders. “To be honest with you, I don’t even really want to go. I mean, yeah. Spending time with Liam is basically the only incentive I’ve even got for going, but other than that, I’d gladly send you in my place.”

“Please, of course you want to go. A night out with fancy arseholes, where you don’t have to eat that greasy bullshit that the pizza place down the street serves is exactly what you want. God, I’m so fucking jealous.” Louis grunted, punching Zayn listlessly in the shoulder.

“Harry’s going to be there. With someone else. An older someone else. Who pays a lot of money for him.” Zayn shook his head, “You probably don’t want to be there.”

“Well, fu-” Louis glared as a knock at the door cut him off. “God, go get your stupid, pretty boyfriend and leave.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Zayn snorted, leaning down to press a kiss to Louis’ temple. “Cheer up. I’ll steal you a couple bottles of champagne. Promise.”

Zayn got up then, wandering his way over to the door, unlatching the bolts, before prying it open.

He felt just a little satisfied with himself when Liam’s eyes widened, giving him an obvious once over. “Well, Christ. What a way to say hello.” He smirked, leaning against the door frame, “This is by far my favorite greeting from you.”

Zayn’s was probably staring a little too intently at Liam as well, because holy fucking hell, he cleaned up nice. His scruff was trimmed neatly, his hair was carefully crafted into a nice little quiff, and from here, Zayn could smell the sharp scent of aftershave. He also had a new thing for Liam in tuxes. His shoulders just made tuxes look fucking glorious.

“You look. Wow. Nice.” Zayn puffed out his cheeks, sighing dramatically.

“So do you.” Liam mumbled, reaching out to trail his thumb down the line of Zayn’s jaw, scruff tickling his skin.

“Fucking gross!” Louis called from the couch.

Zayn snorted. “Forgive him. He’s sunk to new levels of bitterness. That the tux?” he asked, nodding towards the clothing bag draped neatly over Liam’s forearm.

“It is. Go slip into it really quick to make sure it fits.” He smiled, stepping inside, while Zayn traipsed off to the bathroom.

He slipped into the dress slacks, finding them just a tad loose around the waist, although Liam had also apparently supplied a belt, bless him.

He stepped out after he’d gotten himself dressed, slipping the knot of his tie a little tighter.

_“Wow.”_

Zayn looked up, frowning a little. Liam’s jaw had gone just a bit more slack than usual, it seemed.

“You look,” Liam started, pulling Zayn in gently by the bill of his tie. “absolutely ravishing.”

Zayn shivered when he felt Liam dip down, the tip of his nose brushing just beneath his jaw, and the tickle of stubble scratching gently against his skin.

“I’m almost tempted to ditch out on the whole thing.” Liam added, “Get you into bed, and not leave for the next few days.”

Zayn bit back a grin, grateful that Liam couldn’t see the ridiculous expression that crossed over his face.

“But,” Zayn sighed when Liam pulled away a couple inches. “we unfortunately have to go. Already pulled the right strings, and everything.” He mumbled, looking genuinely upset.

“Well. We can get liquored up, and then we can come back, and do whatever you’ve got planned in that head of yours.” he mumbled, turning to head towards the door. “Louis, make sure you eat dinner. Call Niall over, or something. Don’t sulk.” Zayn said, pointing over towards the slumped body on the couch.

He rolled his eyes at the groan he got in response, although he knew Louis would crack in the end and invite Niall over. Niall went out of his way to pay for food, regardless of whether or not you asked him to.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling his and Liam’s shoulders brushing every few seconds while they made their way down the hallway.

A familiar kind of silence settled over them, although Zayn felt like there was something to be said. The air felt too thick, and Zayn was afraid that any words he uttered would come out garbled and twisted, so he kept his mouth shut instead.

“Thank you.” Liam spoke finally, turning to give Zayn a muted smile. “You didn’t have to come with me, but I’m happy that you decided to.”

Zayn licked his slightly chapped lips, head cocking to the side as he shrugged. “Don’t mention it. Gets me out the house. Which is...sadly, not something I do often.” he snorted.

“Maybe I’m just a wonderful friend.” Liam grinned.

\------------------------------

The benefit was just about as dull as Liam had originally described it.

The event room itself was varnished in modest decor, the lighting warm and dim, with a small-ish banner announcing the amount of money raised for some sort of organization, although it was a little unclear as to what everyone was raising money for. Something about building shelters for the homeless, or helping children get out of poverty. So, it was all for a good cause.

Zayn didn’t think that anyone particularly cared, though.

There was a bar stocked in overpriced bottles of wines, champagnes, and chardonnays. And if Zayn really wanted to feel about a million years old, he could maybe find whiskey.

The whole scene had a faintly prissy vibe, where the guests snacked on pretentious, airy appetizers carried by staff who looked about as jazzed to be there as Zayn felt surrounded by the masses of the upper class.

This “little gathering” seemed to cost just about as much as the benefit had raised.

He watched a young waiter approach the both of them, offering them some sort of raw fish cutlet on a stick, which Zayn promptly turned down. He’d worked in enough catering jobs himself to know which foods you just didn’t touch.

He chose to drink instead. A lot.

“Easy there, sailor.” Liam mumbled to him once he’d finished talking with some big business financier of some corporate something or rather. Zayn hadn’t really paid the guy too much attention, too busy watching guests pass with pretty ladies on their arms.

He watched Harry sat at one of the tables, grinning brightly as he chatted with one older gentleman. His client, Zayn had quickly come to realize, as he watched the man slide a spotted, veiny hand up Harry’s thigh.

He averted his eyes to Liam, making a show of finishing up the last of his drink. “When the liquor is free, it’s preposterous not to drown myself in it.” He deadpanned, leaning back against the bar counter.

He watched Liam shake his head, and give Zayn this half understanding half critical stare.

“Are you always like this in public, or do I just bring out new levels of cynicism in you?” Liam asked, and Zayn watched as one of his hands slid out to brush along his waist.

Suits were too stifling. He wanted them both a little less dressed.

“No, I’m kind of always like this.” Zayn murmured, setting his glass down on the counter. “Not a product of you, I swear.”

“Good.” Liam hummed, and Zayn watched his tongue swipe out and lick his lips until they’re this lovely shade of pink that Zayn wants to kiss.

“Wha--hey, what the fuck?” Zayn spat as he was suddenly pulled into Liam’s front, both of Liam’s arms going around his waist.

“Just...hold on.” Liam mumbled, voice hushed as they began to sway in some awkward rendition of a slow dance.

“Uhm, Liam. The fuck are we doing?” Zayn mumbled, feeling Liam press them further into the bunches of other people, slowly swaying together to the soft melodic tones of a piano being played off in the corner.

He stared in confusion as Liam’s eyes stared off at something behind Zayn’s head, and Zayn had no choice but to rest his hands on Liam’s shoulders.

“Sorry.” Liam mumbled, voice hushed as he plastered on a smile that seemed too showy to fit their conversation. “A regular of mine was heading our way. Just, uh. Look like you’re enjoying this. Promise we’ll stop when he disappears.”

Zayn blinked, chancing a look back over his shoulder to a man sat at the bar, consciously making eyes at the both of them.

“Jesus, you fuck some sketchy dudes, mate.” Zayn snorted, turning back to look up at Liam. He frowned at the obviously tense expression written all over Liam’s face, like everything and everyone in this room gave him the creeps.

He waited for the nerves to fade from the boy swaying with him, but every sway felt forced and timid, like Liam wasn’t sure where to put his feet, or how high or low to settle his hands where the spanned Zayn’s lower back. His eyes were wide, darting everywhere in a manic frenzy.

“Hey.” Zayn said, tipping two fingers under Liam’s chin. “Look at me.”

Liam did as he was told, listening as he audibly swallowed, before letting his eyes dart across to look at Zayn only. He took that moment to lean up on the balls of his feet, and placed something of a chaste, slow kiss to Liam’s lips, priding himself just a touch when he felt the tenseness in Liam’s shoulders disappear some.

The gesture made him feel better and worse all at once.

He could feel that fire under his skin. The feeling that could only be brought on by the feeling of Liam’s lips against his, or any sort of contact between them. Any touch, any kiss, and Zayn would feel relief bloom that was quickly shattered by wanting more. One kiss was never enough.

“Now tell me what’s the matter.” Zayn mumbled, pulling back to take a deep breath.

“It’s nothing.” Liam dismissed, but this time his eyes never left Zayn’s.

“It’s something.” Zayn snorted, raising both eyebrows, “You freaked and dragged me away from the open bar to dance with me. And I’m guessing you’re not trying to woo me the old fashioned way, because you’re kind of shit at slow dancing, and we’ve already slept with each other.” He pointed out, trying to elicit some kind of smile from Liam.

“No.” Liam chuckled then, head shaking side to side. “It’s just. He wasn’t very nice as far as clients go.”

Zayn took another moment to look over his shoulder at the man. Angular jaw, gelled dirty blond strands of hair, and pasty pale skin. The greyed circles under the eyes were just the cherry on top, and Zayn wanted to throttle him. Feel the life get squeezed from him.

Zayn blinked away, giving Liam’s shoulders a squeeze, and honestly, where the fuck had those thoughts even come from?

“If it looks like I’m with another client, you, in this case, then I think I won’t get approached.” Liam said, breaking Zayn out of his head.

“Is that why I’m here?” Zayn asked, a single eyebrow arching up.

Liam looked down to Zayn again. “Well. One reason, I guess. I also just like spending time with you.” He shrugged.

Zayn ignored the comment, despite the flutter it brought, making his knees feel weak. “What did he do? The guy back there.”

Liam blinked, like maybe the question had been asked in some other language. “He liked dealing out punishments, I guess. Liked being in control, and I’ve got no issue with that, especially since people with that kind of interest typically pay really well. I always establish what I’m not comfortable with, and make it explicitly clear, you know?” Liam swallowed. “Anyway. I don’t normally let clients tie me up. Bondage was never really my thing if I’m on the receiving end of it, because I don’t really fancy feeling restrained or trapped. Freaks me out sometimes. I should’ve known better than to even let him do it, but he had a nice smile, and he seemed trustworthy. He brought his own leather restraints, and he got me in just the position he wanted me. He, uh. He didn’t listen to my safe word though, and one of his ‘punishments’ ended up leaving a bruise across my ribs and a few on the backs of my thighs. I finally convinced him to untie me after throwing a fucking fit, got dressed, and went straight home. We never even really got to the sex part, but fuck, I couldn’t do any more, you know? I’ve seen him at gatherings like this before, and he’s always been super courteous. Apologetic, I think. He’s even asked me out once or twice, but I couldn't ever bring myself to do it.”

Zayn stared at him, feeling anger replace the blood running through his veins. He’s never wanted to hurt someone before; not like this.

“Fuck, Liam.” He mumbled, swallowing past the lump in his throat. There weren’t any words to cover what he was feeling.

“Stop doing this.”

He watched Liam blink, an incredulous look scrunching up his features. “Stop what?”

“The fuck do you think? Stop doing _this_. Selling yourself. Your body. If you’re putting your life and safety in the hands of some fucking inbred piece of shit fuck like that, then--no, fuck, why do you even still do this, Liam?” He demanded, pressing both hands to Liam’s chest to put some space between them.

“Do _not_ start this here.” Liam grumbled, pulling away from Zayn entirely to lead him away from the other groups of people.

They left the event room all together, congregating in the hallway that joined three other grand doors spaced a good distance apart from one another, and behind each one, Zayn knew there were other grand fucking benefits or fundraisers going on.

“First of all,” Liam started, once they were away from anyone within earshot. “You’ve got _no fucking right_ telling me what I can and cannot do, Zayn, so get off your high fucking horse.”

“No, when people start physically abusing you like that, then I have a right to stick my nose in it, because when you’re hurt like that, it becomes my fucking business, Liam!” He lashed back, hands balled up into fists at his side. “I can’t believe you just fucking accept that! The fact that he abused you, however benign you think it was, and that you think it’s just fine and dandy to continue on with this kind of lifestyle? It’s fucking unacceptable.”

He watched red bloom across Liam’s cheeks, and he couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment, shame, or anger clouding over Liam’s features. He felt even worse over the fact that he’d put that twisted, hurt expression on his face in the first place.

“You’ve got no right telling me how I can or cannot live my life, Zayn. You’re not my fucking mother.” He growled, both arms folding across his chest. “It was one guy, one time! And I don’t see him anymore, not that it’s any of your fucking business either. God, you make me so fucking angry sometimes, you know that? Every time I fucking exhale, I’m doing something wrong, right?”

“Yeah, because you’re being a fucking idiot, Liam! What if some other guy decides to disregard your comfort level completely, and beat the shit out of you?! That fucking scares me, Liam.”

Liam made a noise that was half scoff, half snort. “Why the fuck do you even care, anyway? Are you just upset that I’m sticking my cock in people other than you?”

_“Yes.”_ Zayn glared, shoving at one of Liam’s shoulders, although the action didn’t seem to phase Liam. “I hate the thought of other men touching. Of other men getting to kiss you. Of them getting fucked by you, or fucking you. And yeah, sur- _fucking_ -prise, I actually _give a flying fuck_ about you, and your safety, you fucking prick!”

Zayn took a step back, feeling angry, hot tears pool up in his eyes, distorting his vision. He hated himself for even speaking the truth. It wasn’t even a truth that he’d come to realize before, until the words had already left his mouth.

“Zayn.” Liam reached out, voice softer this time.

“No,” Zayn pushed his hand away. “Fuck you. You’ve made my life a fucking whirlwind, and I fucking hate it. You’ve twisted everything.” He spat, brushing angrily at the tears running down his cheeks. “And you just-...you’re just so fucking aggravating and stubborn.”

He didn’t push Liam away this time, not when he felt Liam pull him in by the hem of his jacket and wrap both of his arms around him like he was delicate.

Zayn hated feeling like people thought he was fragile. He couldn’t bring himself to pull away though. He buried his face into Liam’s shoulder, feeling his tears soak through the material of his suit jacket, while Liam rubbed circles into the base of his spine.

There were no words to say, it seemed.

Zayn didn’t want to reflect over what his words meant, didn’t want to discuss what they could mean going forward, or why he was suddenly so selfish about how much of Liam’s attention he got.

It felt like too much.

\---------------------

Keeping true to his word, Zayn smuggled at least one bottle of chardonnay home for Louis’ enjoyment, completely unsurprised to find Niall slumped on the couch with him.

Neither he nor Liam said much as they made their way back to his bedroom, locking the door behind them.

Wordlessly, they both stripped out of their clothes, only moving in to actually touch each other when they were completely bare.

Liam didn’t fuck him into the mattress that night.

It was slow, every move and touch deliberate. Serving some kind of purpose, Zayn thought. Maybe to keep the silent stretch between them feel less heavy than it was.

They spent more time letting their fingers explore each others’ bodies. Zayn ignored every love bite left on Liam’s skin that hadn’t been made by him. The more he thought of someone else’s lips on Liam, the more desperate he became to show Liam that he could be better. He could touch him better, kiss him better, love him better.

Zayn was slowly undone with every push of Liam’s hips, groaning every time he bottomed out, pushing right up against that one spot that sent his eyes lolling shut and his body tremoring and pulsing.

Zayn came with a shortened gasp, shooting his load all across Liam’s lower stomach in white, cloudy streaks, just as Liam came inside him, pulsing and moaning heavily against Zayn’s neck.

They laid side by side afterwards, the air swimming with everything Zayn wanted to say, but wasn’t sure he wanted to utter out loud yet, or even admit to himself.

He still wasn’t sure that what he was feeling was even real just yet, but there was still this feeling in his bones that ached in the best and worst way. Like being with Liam made everything simultaneously better and worse. Better because every touch from the boy satisfied some need inside him that couldn’t be sated by anyone else, and worse because Liam was so unattainable to him. All Zayn knew was that he wanted to drown in him, even if it was the last thing he did, but he also wanted to put as much distance between them as possible. He hated getting hurt, and this arrangement that they had couldn’t possibly have a happy ending. Zayn knew better than that.

He glanced down when he felt one of Liam’s hands move over to hold one of Zayn’s, large and warm and just the kind of comfort Zayn wanted to take advantage of while he still could. Liam’s thumb rubbed circles into his knuckles, and Zayn could feel his eyes on him.

“What are you thinking about?” Liam asked finally, voice soft.

Zayn took a deep breath, shaking his head. “I’m an idiot.”

He watched Liam blink once, twice, before he reached across with his free hand to push a hand through Zayn’s sweat-matted hair. “You’re not an idiot. You’re more than I deserve, Zaynie Brainy.”

Zayn shifted out of his touch, and Liam, sensing this, let his hand slowly drop to rest against the bed.

“What’s wrong?” Liam asked, although it sounded more like a statement than a question.

“Are we just ignoring what I said earlier?” Zayn raised an eyebrow, “Pretend like it didn’t happen?”

He looked away when he heard Liam let out a deep breath. Internally, he wondered how long before all of this exploded in their faces.

“Zayn, you know I have to...you know, take some time to think about this. This is how I make my living, Zayn. And. It’s just gonna take me some time, okay?”

Zayn nodded along, hoping that he wouldn’t actually start crying again, because he really didn’t need that. Not fucking now.

“I need you to know,” Liam started, scooting in closer, and Zayn felt lips press to his cheek. “that I care for you a great deal. Okay? I just need to to know that.” Liam breathed, forehead resting to Zayn’s temple. “I am so, _so_ fond of you.”

Zayn blinked, and oh holy fucking fuck he could already feel tears coming up again.

“Thank you.” he mumbles, shutting his eyes tight.

_I’m such a fucking idiot,_ he thinks to himself, curling into Liam’s everlasting warmth, that he apparently just didn't have the willpower to resist anymore.

**  
** _But I love you, too._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so it's almost three in the morning, so I'll make this brief haha.  
> I'm so, so, so, so sorry that it's taken me this long to update. I'm also super sorry about typos, because I know I make a lot, but I hope you all can forgive me. I'm still not sure how I feel about this chapter, I don't know if it's that great, but idk yet ???? I hope you all like it.  
> Thank you so much for all the support, and all the lovely comments and feedback I've received. You're all so amazing.  
> I'm also setting up a second tumblr account, so be on the lookout for that once I post it, and you can feel free to send me feedback there if you'd prefer, or simply pop in and say hello. I really want to hear from you all, but I wasn't sure that my personal blog would be the right place to do that, since it's kind of a mess of a whole assortment of different things.
> 
> Much love to you all xoxo

 

 

It was at about three in the morning when Zayn started to realize how truly fucked he was.

It wasn’t a quick realization, but more of a pondering of thoughts that very slowly piled up in his mind, until he suddenly found himself drowning in them.

He disentangled himself from Liam’s embrace--the guy could probably sleep through a raging shitstorm--and sat up. His chest felt too tight.

He couldn’t be in love with someone. Not with a man. Not with Liam.

Liam was a side shag, and given the very obvious fact of Liam’s profession looming over the both of them like a dark cloud, there was no way in fucking hell that anything resembling a relationship could work for either of them. They were anything but conventional, let alone domestic. And there was no way Zayn’s parents would ever consent to him marrying a boy, or him even being in a relationship with one. He knew his mother might warm up to the idea a little faster, as well as his sisters, but his father?

Zayn shuddered to think.

He looked down at Liam, steadied by the fact that the boy was even there, tucked into his side of the bed in a cocoon of blankets and empty space where Zayn was supposed to lay. Zayn figured that Liam deserved his own designated side of the bed now. The moon colored Liam’s skin pale and soft, and electrified his eyelashes where they fanned out against his cheeks. His lips were parted a little, each exhale sounding loud and rushed, and god, Zayn hated mouth breathers, but on Liam, it just became another thing that Zayn found he adored, much to his surprise. He looked years younger in this light. So angelic, and beautiful, and without that barrier around him that frustrated Zayn to no fucking end sometimes.

Looking down at Liam now, Zayn only felt love. The suffocating, inconvenient, fucking shattering knowledge that he, Zayn Malik, loved this boy.

Loved Liam.

He shuddered.

The very idea of loving someone was undiscovered territory for Zayn.

There had been girls in the past, ones he’d look at think that maybe he could fall in love with. A kind of love that would make all those ridiculously cliched rom coms seem less fucking brainless. And it wasn’t as if the girls he’d dated before weren’t lovely. They had been. But no matter how much he replayed that fantasy in his head, he couldn’t force a spark that wasn’t there, and even at the prime age of seventeen, he knew that on some level the idea of soul-consuming love was bullshit.

He felt cheated.

Cheated that he’d met Liam in the first place. Cheated that he’d bent to Liam’s requests, literally and metaphorically, so willingly. Cheated that Liam wasn’t the person that he could bring back to introduce to his parents. Cheated that loving someone so unobtainable felt so fucking good and so fucking miserable at the same time.

And not vocalizing his feelings made him feel like he was slowly burning from the inside out, his bones and blood crumbling into ash.

He wanted to scream his confession, and not worry about who might hear it. At the same time, he wanted him and Liam to stay tucked in this little safe haven, away from everyone and everything, where Zayn could just swim in the way he felt, and steal all of Liam’s time away.

He never wanted to be away from him. And that was becoming a serious problem.

He was missing more and more class, and he knew he’d fail if he didn’t start to get caught up pronto. He called in sick to work on a regular basis, and considering the fact that he was nearly broke every time he had to pay his half of the rent, he really needed to keep his job. He spent less time with Louis and Niall to spend afternoons and nights wrapped up in Liam’s arms instead. He neglected to call his mum every other night, like he always promised her he would, and that was the worst of it. The cherry on top of a shit cake. He felt like he was letting her down in more ways than one. His mum, and his sisters, and his father most of all. His father who’d been disappointed when Zayn had started liking his Batman comics more than the girls at school. His father who’d been ashamed to see Zayn excel in things like art and english, rather than hard science and engineering. The father who’d probably lose his shit if Zayn decided to bring Liam home for the holidays, instead of the perfect, loving wife he was expected to.

He finally let out a deep breath, feeling more suffocated than ever once he laid himself back down again, scooting a little further down to press his face against Liam’s chest, feeling the jut of Liam’s chin pressing into the top of his head.

He felt so safe like this. So loved.

For a moment it was all he could do; get lost in the smell that was so distinctly Liam, and pray that his anxiety induced mental freakout wouldn’t somehow rouse Liam from his slumber.

He couldn’t love this boy. He wouldn’t let himself love Liam.

Liam had already made it clear that he didn’t like Zayn poking around in his business, and Zayn knew that he could never be entirely happy in a relationship, knowing that Liam would be sleeping with other men on the side.

“Who the fuck am I kidding.” Zayn said out loud, and even though his voice was hushed, it sounded massive through the thick blanket of quiet that hung all across the flat.

He closed his eyes tight, breathing into Liam’s chest. He wanted to remember this feeling later when Liam eventually wised up, and told Zayn to piss off.

Zayn groaned against Liam’s chest. Sleep felt miles away.

**********

Zayn wondered for a minute if maybe he’d died and gone to hell.

There was a blaring in his ear that made nails on a chalkboard sound like a seasoned orchestra, and Liam’s sweet fruity, almost spicy scent hanging heavy over his head.

“Zayn.”

The noise vibrated against Zayn’s face, rousing him into awareness just a little bit more. He groaned when he realized that it was Liam’s wonderfully muscled chest muffling out the rest of the world, and the chime of his alarm clock being the inflamed arsehole that it was, and waking them both out of their sleep. Not that Zayn even got much sleep these days.

“What.” he grumbled, rolling away to slam his fist down on the sheer plastic device that was the source of the hellish beeping that made Zayn want to punch things. He sighed gratefully when the noise abruptly shorted out.

Zayn curled back into Liam’s chest, grateful for the arm that immediately came to loop around his waist.

“You’ve got to get up, love.” He heard Liam mumble, voice thick and gravelly with sleep.

He melted when he felt lips press to his temple.

“It’s too early for sex, Liam. Wait for a few more hours, hmm?” He mumbled, words drowned out in Liam’s shirt.

He nearly whined when he heard, or really felt, Liam chuckle.

“As appealing as you make that sound,” Liam started, ghosting his fingertips down Zayn’s bicep, tracing almost impossibly softly along his tattoos. “You’ve got work, remember?”

“Fuck that.” Zayn shot back immediately, and he was seriously starting to envy Liam’s easy hours and substantial pay. “I’m quitting. It’s fucking rude making people wake up this early. The fuck voluntarily wakes up this early anyway? Motherfucking sadists.”

He felt Liam laugh then, sounding thoroughly amused as he hugged Liam close, and maybe if Liam always held him this close, Zayn would get lost in his tanned skin and never leave.

“I love you in the mornings.” Liam snorted, giving Zayn’s arse a playful slap. “Get up. You told me to wake you thirty minutes before your alarm, but you looked so cute, drooling all over my shirt.”

Zayn would maybe pull away from Liam in horror at the drool comment, because it was humiliating enough knowing that, yes, he’d probably drooled on Liam in his sleep on more than one occasion. But he was still hung on the first comment.

It was so close to an ‘I love you,’ but so far from what Zayn needed it to mean.

Liam didn’t love him, Zayn knew. There was no point in holding out false hope for a phrase that would probably never be uttered to him from someone like Liam.

“Yeah, well, I’m an arsehole. Especially in the mornings. Do you charge extra for that?” He joked, letting himself roll over onto his back. “Fuck, just smother me with one of the pillows. You can come visit my ghost.”

“Damn, your humor is dark in the morning.” He heard Liam comment, and couldn’t help snickering.

“I’m so not a morning person.” Zayn muttered, finally summoning just enough energy to drag his arse out of bed. He wrinkled his nose at a cum stain he found on the sheets. He really needed to do laundry.

No matter how many times he and Liam would undress each other, being naked in front of him always felt brand new.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest as he approached his closet, pulling out a fresh pair of boxer briefs to pull on, before he rummaged around the piles of laundry sat around the room, until he found his employee shirt and slacks.

He looked to the bed, finding Liam’s head propped up in his hand, watching Zayn excavate through the disaster area that was his room.

“What are you looking at?” Zayn asked, arching an eyebrow. “I’m not a hung painting.”

“True.” Liam sighed. He slipped out of bed, shamelessly nude, to approach Zayn from behind, wrapping his arms around his front, momentarily stopping Zayn from getting dressed any further. “But you’re nicely hung, so there’s that.”

Zayn rolled his eyes at the coy laugh that vibrated along his back.

“You’re a fucking dork.” Zayn mumbled, finding himself completely short of breath. Zayn could almost believe that Liam wanted him when he held him like this, chin hooked on his shoulder. It was such a non sensual embrace, that it had Zayn reeling.

“Yes, but you’re fucking this dork.” Liam snorted, rubbing circles into Zayn’s belly.

“And I will again, but right now I have to get ready to go make pretentious drinks for pretentious people.” Zayn grumbled, pulling himself out of Liam’s arms.

He was blindly aware of Liam’s presence behind him, still and patient while Zayn struggled to pull his clothes on in a rush. He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes still stinging from a lack of sleep, before turning to face the boy behind him, fixing him with a steady gaze.

Only Liam had this look on his face, one that was so stony that Zayn wondered for a minute if he’d fucked up, yet again. It softened less than a second later when Liam reached out, pulling Zayn in by the front of his shirt to wrap his arms around his waist.

“I’m having lunch with my sister again later. Can I swing by afterwards?” Liam finally spoke, his voice low in Zayn’s ear.

“By the time you’re done with your lunch, I’ll still be at work.” Zayn shrugged, carefully placing both hands on the backs of Liam’s shoulders, unintentionally leaning into his hold. “But I’m sure Louis won’t mind you hanging around until I get back?” He mumbled, leaning his cheek against Liam’s, feeling a thin layer of scruff brush against his own.

“Okay.” Liam answered after a moment, brushing his hands up under Zayn’s shirt.

Zayn shivered, pulling out of Liam’s embrace finally, and really, fuck Liam for being so distracting and sweet. “Alright, before we decide on a last minute shag, I really have to go.” He murmured, grabbing for a sweatshirt that looked kind of clean. “See you in a few hours.”

“Where’s my kiss?” Liam raised both eyebrows, fixing Zayn with an amused stare.

“Oh, for fucks sake.” Zayn groaned, leaning in to press a very, very brief kiss to Liam’s lips. More like a peck really. “Satisfied?”

“Very.” Liam grinned, and Zayn could feel Liam following close behind as they crept quietly out of Zayn’s room, and past the kitchen to get to the front door. Louis slept in late, and he was arguably worse to deal with when it came to rude awakenings and early mornings.

Zayn slipped into his shoes, giving Liam one half-hearted goodbye, before slipping out the door.

He walked to work faster than he’d ever willingly walked before.

************

Zayn was pretty sure that today would be the day that his manager would finally do the right thing and fire him.

Zayn had worked at this particular coffee joint since he’d started his first year of Uni, fresh faced and homesick. He wouldn’t have even gotten the job if Niall hadn’t put in a good word for him.

Zayn’s superior liked him well enough. He was an older gentleman, with a bushy mustache, and a receding hairline that was greyed around the edges. Had the patience of a saint too, and that was probably the only reason that Zayn had been allowed to keep his position until now.

All of his past indiscretions-- the botched drinks, and the occasional flippant, sarcastic comment made when Zayn had to deal with someone particuarly arsehole-ish that day-- were always swept under the rug with a quick apology, and a promise for a better tomorrow.

Today, though.

Customers had decided that today was the day to push Zayn to his absolute limit, and maybe it was the sleepless night he’d had, or coming to terms with a particular boy that was driving him fucking nuts, but Zayn was done.

The complaints would vary from things like the quality of the material that the cups were made of, and how they were inferior to a competing coffee chain’s take-out cups, or how this brand of half-and-half tasted different than this other brand of half-and-half that they should really invest in some time in the future, according to some.

“You only gave me two straws.”

Zayn looked up as a cardboard cup was set down in front of him, two thin red straws poking from the small hole in the lid. He turned his eyes to the customer next, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

The eyes were the first thing that caught his attention. A cold grey, hard and stony, framed by a quaint spider-web of wrinkles and a fan of thinning grey eyelashes. He had on almost an identical dress shirt that he’d had the first day Zayn had informally met him.

Jeff.

The forty-something, divorced-with-three-kids Jeff. The Jeff that had stolen Liam’s good mood that day at the zoo, when he and Zayn had had their first proper kiss. It wasn’t in a sweaty mess and tangle of limbs, but a real, proper kiss between them. There had been nothing sensual about it.

Zayn swallowed, glancing down at the cup again. Someone else must’ve taken his order, because Zayn was almost certain that he’d remember taking this fuckface’s order. And really, when had Zayn become so territorial? Maybe it was the memory of Liam stiffening up, the color draining from his face the more Jeff spoke.

“I think we know each other.” Jeff spoke again, his scowl turned up into a smile, although his eyes didn’t reflect that mirth.

Zayn swallowed again, staring down at the drink, because he wasn’t sure he could actually look at this guy any longer than he needed to.

“Yeah.” He replied, reaching up to massage his temple. He desperately needed Louis to make him tea when he got home. Zayn thinks he’s earned a nice cuppa. “Something the matter with your drink, sir?” He asked, trying to keep the icy tone out of his voice, but he winced to find that it was there regardless.

He didn’t have to look at Jeff to feel his smile and his gaze with that underlying pettiness not so subtly mixed in. It made his skin crawl, especially in the silence that followed.

“You look a little tired.” Jeff said, leaning across the counter a little.

Zayn physically jolted when he felt cold fingers brush over the faint dark circles under Zayn’s eyes, his hand knocking against the cardboard cup, sending it rolling across the granite countertop. He hissed when scalding liquid splashed across his hand, and distantly, he could hear coffee dripping from the counter and onto the floor.

“Long night?” He heard Jeff ask, and when he looked over, he saw that the guy had somehow avoided getting any coffee on him, and honestly, fuck him. “So, I guess you’ll be remaking that. Free this time, yeah?”

Zayn nodded mutely, going to grab a couple rags as he rang Jeff’s order off to Niall again. His coworker Jesy quickly gave him a wide-eyed look of concern, before taking his place at the second register, while Zayn shamefully went to work on sopping up the mess.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen your pretty face down the alley.” Jeff says after a moment, and to Zayn’s dismay, the guy is still standing there just... watching Zayn mop up the mess.

He arches an eyebrow, “Excuse me?”

“The alley.” Jeff props himself up against one of the tables. “You’re one of Liam’s mates. You work with him, don’t you? It’s not really surprising that I haven’t seen you. You’ve got a pretty face. Bet all the boys flock to you.”

Zayn resists the urge to fucking shove the coffee soaked towel down Jeff’s throat, instead, resorting to an insolent glare that Zayn’s sure does almost nothing except add to Jeff’s amusement.

“I’m not a prostitute.”

“Oh.” Jeff blinks, eyes skimming over a Zayn for a quiet moment, before one corner of his mouth curls up. “I just assumed. Bet you’d make a fortune doing what Liam did. Although, Liam’s pretty well paid too.”

“Yeah? Good for him.” Zayn mumbles, and he really wants to know as little about Liam’s job as possible. Ignorance really was bliss. “And I’m not interested in having your cock in me, or entering into that profession, so save the speech.”

“Oooh, fiery. I like that in a boy.” Jeff smiles again, and Zayn feels his skin crawl when he feels a hand placed on his arm. He shrugs it off wordlessly, staring down to the floor while he mops everything up.

He gets and up and leaves to wring the towel out, taking a deep breath as he’s leaned over the sink. He can do this. Just an hour or so, and he’ll be home again.

He heads back out, thanking the fucking heavens when he sees Jesy slide Jeff his drink, offering him a clipped smile while Jeff pays. Jeff seems to rub everyone the wrong way, it seems.

“It was lovely seeing you again. Not sure I ever got your name, though.” Jeff speaks when Zayn reemerges, shooting him that smile again that’s supposed to pass as cordial, but just ends up looking forced.

“Yeah, it’s been a real pleasure.” Zayn mumbles, kneeling down to finish his mess. “Don’t really have time to exchange pleasantries, please see yourself out.”

He looks up when Jeff’s shadow doesn’t dissipate, eyebrows bunching up. “What? If you want another straw, they’re over next to the spare lids, napkins, and spices.” He says, nodding towards the counter that’s set up by the door.

Jeff stares a little longer, eyes wandering over Zayn’s face, before he’s reaching a hand into the pocket of his shirt, pulling out a small, crisp slip of paper, and when it’s pressed into Zayn’s hand, Zayn can feel that it’s a business card.

“For you.” Jeff says. “If things ever get rough. Financially. I may be able to help for some services in exchange.”

Zayn watches Jeff leave then, but not before grabbing an extra thin red straw, and suddenly Zayn’s not feeling well.

He stares at the card, tracing the cursive scrawl with the tip of his thumb, and fuck, was he really just propositioned for sex?

He dropped the card into the mess left on the floor, watching brown stain white, the small script eventually disappearing into a puddle of coffee and tile flooring.

He believed Liam now when he admitted to being scared his first time with a client. Zayn was scared, and he wasn’t even in bed with the guy, nor would he ever find himself in bed with a man like Jeff. The guy made his stomach twist into knots.

He sat back on his knees, taking a deep breath. He could feel a lukewarm wetness bleed through the knees of his slacks, and cursed under his breath. It wasn’t awful smelling like espresso all the time, but he couldn’t afford to visit the laundromat five times a week.

“Zayn.”

He looked up at the mention of his name, fixing Niall with a curious look.

“You okay, mate?” Niall asked, leaning down to squeeze Zayn’s shoulder. “You’re looking a little pale.”

“No. I’m okay.” Zayn says, going back to sopping up the rest of what had spilled, thankful to see that the small business card had become irreparably soggy. “Just ready to prematurely retire.” He snorted, drumming his fingers against his thigh. “This is the third drink I’ve spilled today, can you believe that?” He asked, exhaling sharply.

“You’re stressed again. It’s pretty obvious.” Niall mumbled, and Zayn was just about ready to kiss the blonde when he too leaned down, wiping up the edges of the counter with a sponge. “I would say to go home and make Liam give you a foot massage, or something, but I have kind of a feeling that Liam is part of stress issue?”

Zayn blinked, “What--how. What?”

“Just a shot in the dark.” Niall shrugged, “And I’m not an idiot. Also not blind.” He snorted, reaching over to pat Zayn’s knee, scrunching his nose up when he pulled back, licking coffee off his palm.

“That’s been on the floor, you animal.” Zayn faux gagged, “And I know you’re not blind or stupid. What tipped you off?” he asked, just out of sheer curiosity.

Niall met his eyes then, icy blue and unguarded. “I don’t think I need to vocalize it. I think on some level we both understand what’s going on.” He replied, sheepishly smiling. “Just make sure you’re both taken care of, okay? Because if this blows up, I have a feeling that it won’t be pretty.”

Zayn just stares while Niall goes back to mopping up sticky drip marks that had long dried down the side of the counter, and thinks maybe he doesn’t hang out with Niall enough. Niall was everything Zayn wished he was sometimes. Laid back, carefree, and so naturally kind. His humor was almost as endearing as his laugh, and even in a drunken stupor, he was always the one to lift the mood. Zayn had never really seen him this concerned or intuned before, and that alone was something of a surprise. A pleasant one, Zayn thinks.

“I know.” he says finally, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “If it does blow up, I expect you to keep me drunk through the whole grieving process.” He added, a playful hint in his voice.

“Of course.” Niall scoffed, “That’s my specialty.” He smirked, lips stretching across his teeth in a wide grin.

***********

Zayn was still picking at the knot in his apron when the bell above the door chimed.

Lunch was always a busy time, especially within the campus limits, so Zayn didn’t really pay much attention to it. There was always a buzz of voices, keyboard clicking, and the loud whistling from a dozen different coffee machines and steamers, so Zayn was practically conditioned to fade out the white noise.

It wasn’t until he felt warm fingers wrap lightly around his wrist that he finally whirled around, jerking away out of instinct.

Liam pulled his hand away, raising both arms in defense. “Whoa, didn’t mean to startle you, kid.”

Zayn blinked, gaping stupidly up at Liam. “The fuck are you doing here?”

Liam stared back, eyebrows creasing together, before a laugh slipped past his lips. “Well, hello to you too, my dear.”

“Right.” Zayn says, ducking out of his apron to drape it over his arm. “Hi. I’d say that seeing you here is a coincidence, but you know I work here, so...what’s up, Liam?” he asked, beckoning for him to follow as he crossed back to the employee lounge.

“Just had lunch with my sister. Thought I’d stop by.” He clicked his tongue, leaning against one of the walls while Zayn hung his apron, and gathered a few personal belongings from his locker. “Was kind of expecting more of a warm hello, but I see that’s not really your style.” He concluded, lips pulling into a half smile.

“How intuitive you are.” Zayn mumbled, popping his knuckles to try and still the shaking in his hands. He was still a little shaken from the events that had taken place earlier in the day, but he wouldn’t mention it to Liam. Not yet, at least. “How was lunch?” he asked.

“Good.” Liam exhaled deeply. “Seeing my sister is always a privilege.”

Zayn looked back, meeting Liam’s eyes for just a brief second.

  
“I think she’d like you.”

Zayn stilled then, staring at the chipped grey paint that decorated his locker. He swallowed against the dryness in his mouth, shaking his head slowly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Liam agreed without skipping a beat. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah.” Zayn mumbles, carelessly giving the door to his locker a firm push. He pulls on a sweatshirt, shoving his hands in the pockets. “We’ll go the back way.” he says, nodding towards the door just a couple feet back.

They leave in silence, and spend most of the walk in silence. It isn’t until he sees Liam lean in close from his peripheral vision that he jerks away again, fixing Liam with a wary stare. “The fuck are you doing?”

“You reek of coffee.” Liam snorted, tugging Zayn in close by the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “I don’t have cooties. Relax. You’re very jumpy today, you know that?”

“Well, sorry if I don’t find it entirely normal when you decide to lean in and sniff me.” Zayn snorts, thwacking Liam on the arm.

“Did you decide to lie in coffee grounds or something?”

“Something like that.” Zayn shoots Liam a teasing smile.

He frowns when they turn down the wrong street, and he has to quickly veer off course when he almost runs into a jogger. “Liam, I don’t know how well your memory works in the daytime, but I’m not so sure I live down this way.”

“We’re just making a quick stop, smartarse. I’m having a craving.” Liam says without actually turning to face Zayn. “Unclench a little, okay? You act like I’m about to go dangle you off a cliff.” He snorts, pulling Zayn in to kiss the side of his face.

Zayn draws away immediately, and he doesn’t even have to look at Liam to feel the strange expression on his face.

“What’s up, Zayn?”

Zayn shakes his head quickly. “It’s nothing.” He huffs, shrugging it off. “If one of your clients is out, and sees us, then--”

“Then nothing. I don’t care if they see.” Liam mumbles, shoulders scrunching up in a shrug.

Zayn looks outwards towards the street, thankful that Liam doesn’t make any move to draw him in again.

“Are you afraid of people seeing you? With a guy, I mean.” He pauses, “You’re not out, are you?”

“There’s nothing to be out about.” Zayn shakes his head, brushing it off as quickly as it comes. “It’s not as if we’re in a relationship, so it’s not really a big deal, is it?”

Zayn’s thankful when Liam looks away, but something in his gut twists uncomfortably at the expression that crosses over Liam’s face, one that’s tense and very obviously unhappy.

“Yeah. Okay, Zayn.” And the way Liam says it makes it sound like the conversation is over.

He frowns when Liam stops, pulling open a small pink door, and through the window Zayn can see a line of people at the register. Inside is decorated brightly in pastel greens, pinks, and blues, and the fluorescent, electric twists of candy decorates small display tables.

It’s charming, and small for a sweet shop, but Zayn’s still confused as to what the fuck made them take this detour.

“Liam.” Zayn says, eyes darting around. “Why?”

Liam shrugs, lips pulling into a giddy smile. “It’s a nice day. Wanted ice cream.” And from where they’re standing, Zayn can see a wiry teenage boy handing off cones of various flavors off to people lined up at the first register.

“You. Oh my god.” Zayn exhales, getting in line next to Liam. “I actually would like to get home soon, because I desperately need a shower.”

“Holy fuck, you’re impatient today.” Liam snorted, keeping his hands to himself.

Zayn was maybe a little hopeful for a hand to come rest at the base of his spine, but he’d made it quite clear to Liam that he didn’t want them to be so public, like the fucking moron he was. He was quickly regretting his whole life.

“I’ll pay, so it’ll be worth your while, okay?” Liam offered.

Zayn only nodded.

They waited in silence the rest of the time, and more often than not, Zayn would find himself looking over at the boy next to him. He traced the sharp angle of his jaw, and that one little spot that Zayn loved to nibble when they were having a particularly heated night. He let his gaze travel across Liam’s beautifully flushed lips, then up the curve of his nose, thankful that Liam was staring straight ahead as he stared at the fan of his eyelashes that framed the light brown in his eyes so well. He was so beautiful.

It wasn’t until Liam started speaking that Zayn realized they’d made it to the front of the line, and he’d been practically drooling over this boy for about twenty minutes straight.

He didn’t even hear Liam’s order, before the boy working the cashier turned to Zayn with a tacky smile. “And for you?”

Zayn blinked a couple times, before letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in. “Right. Chocolate. I guess.”

“That’ll be just a couple seconds for the both of you.” The man smiled, glancing between both of them. “Paying separately or together?”

  
“Together.” Liam answered promptly, handing over his card.

“Li, you don’t have to.” Zayn says discreetly, nudging him gently in the side with his elbow.

Liam waves him off. “It’s just ice cream. My treat. I’m detaining you from your shower, so it’s only fair, right?”

Zayn hates that he feels guilty for the simplest thing, like paying for a three dollar ice cream cone, or maybe he’s still feeling guilty from their earlier conversation. Probably the latter.

It isn’t until they’re sat outside at one of the rickety, wooden tables, that Zayn finally decides to open his mouth, and when he does, it’s to fake a gag at Liam’s ice cream cone.

“The fuck kind of flavor is that?” He asked, watching Liam bite into something crunchy.

“Cake batter. With some kind of crushed up crunchy, wafer-y chocolate bar in it.” He smiles, licking it again. “It’s delicious. You’re just naturally bitter.”

Zayn scoffs, resenting that notion. “That sounds disgusting.”

“It’s really not. Here,” he says, holding his cone close to Zayn’s face. “Try some.”

“Fuck no.” Zayn pushed at Liam’s wrist. “It looks like frozen puke, I can’t.”

“Come on.” Liam grins, pushing the cone close again, actually giggling when he smears some across Zayn’s lips and the tip of his nose.

“Oh my god, you’re such an infant.” Zayn scrunches his nose up, fumbling blindly around for a napkin that wasn’t there. “Go get me a napkin, since you made this mess.”

“Or I could lick it off.” Liam waggles his eyebrows, grinning jovially.

“Oh, fuck off.” Zayn groaned, reaching out to swat at Liam’s arm. “I need a napkin. You’ve lost your licking privileges, you animal.” He snorted.

Liam grinned, reaching across to tousle Zayn’s hair. “Be right back. Your irritability is kind of hot, you know.”

Zayn rolled his eyes ceilingward, before watching Liam get up to leave. He licked the sticky sweetness from his lips, before turning his eyes to the street.

Liam was right. It was a beautiful day.

The sun was shining brightly, illuminating the electric blue of the sky, and the streets were littered with people, some rushing to class, others rushing to work, it seemed. There were even whole families out and about, which was odd for work days.

He watched two children be scolded by their mother for straying too far away from the group, stiffening when he felt a wetted napkin press to his lips, dragging the sticky sweetness off his face.

“Please, please tell me that you did not spit on that napkin.” Zayn closed his eyes, nose scrunching up.

“I’m not your mum, don’t be silly.” Liam mumbled, voice soft as he cleaned off the tip of Zayn’s nose last.

Zayn opened his eyes again, watching Liam bundle the napkin up in his fist and toss it in the trash bin nearby.

“So.” Zayn breathed, feeling short of breath suddenly. “Have you...thought about it? You said you’d think about, you know. Quitting.”

He watched Liam stop all movement, regarding Zayn with a careful look. “Yes.” He said, licking his lips. “Haven’t been able to get it off my mind, honestly.”

Zayn shifted in his seat, tossing the rest of his cone in the trash. He didn’t feel so hungry anymore.

He looked down at the hand that wrapped around his, warm and sweet, but the motive seemed hesitant.

“I think,” Liam took a deep breath, “That we both need to think about what it is we actually want. You shied away when I leaned in and kissed your cheek earlier. I’m not going to spend my life in a closet, Zayn. I like you. I like spending time with you. You’re...you’ve become so important to me over the last few months, and...it’s more than I ever expected happening. But I can’t shut down my life when you’re not ready to own up to who you are. Whether you’re bi or gay, I don’t care. But I won’t hide if hiding is what you’re planning to do.”

Zayn scoffed without really meaning to, and he shied away from the searching look Liam gave him. “It must be so easy for you to be out.”

Liam blinked, pulling back a little. “Well. I mean. Sometimes. It hasn’t exactly been a walk in the park, but...yes. I’ve had a lot of support.”

“See, and that’s the thing.” Zayn shook his head. “You have that support. You can walk out in public with a client, and simulate love with them, and touch them, and--...I can’t.”

“Is it a thing with your parents, is it an insecurity thing, or is it a combination of both?” Liam asked, voice gentle.

Zayn licked his lips, reaching up to carelessly run a hand through his hair, tugging at the knots. “Probably both. I just. I don’t know.”

Liam nodded quietly, like maybe he understood. “I get it, Zayn. I really do. And I’m here for you as a friend if that’s the case. But I can’t stop my job, my livelihood, to try something out that you’re not even sure you’re ready for yet.”

Zayn blinked, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t act like you know me better than I know me.”

Liam stared, eyebrows pulling together. “What? No. Zayn, I never even said that.”

“But it’s implied.”

Liam frowned. “No. That’s not it at all. You’re asking me to stop doing this thing, that--” Liam sighed. “-that I’ve been doing for a long while now. I can’t just stop and find a new career. I’d have to go back to Uni, and start over from square one. I’d need to work part time to pay for schooling. I’ve never worked part time, and you can’t exactly put ‘prostitute’ in for past job experience. My high school test scores aren’t even enough to to convince people to hire me. I’ll be dead in the water if I quit.”

“You make, like. A shit ton of money, Liam. How is money even going to be an issue for you?”

Liam blinked, pulling his hand off Zayn’s. “I’m not sure that that’s any of your business.”

Zayn sighed, pressing his palm to his forehead. “I know, you’re right.”

They both sat in uninterrupted, awkward silence, while Zayn’s thoughts ran at lightning speed. There was so much he wanted to say.

“If you want to be with me, Zayn--” Liam started, cocking his head to try and catch Zayn’s eye. “-then be with me.”

“I can’t.” Zayn sighed, feeling frustrated now. “You sleep with other men, Liam, how do you expect me to overlook that? I don’t hold any judgement over what you do, because it’s your body, and you know what’s best for you. I get that. But I can’t be with someone who won’t commit to one person.”

“It’s just sex!” Liam exhaled sharply, a frustrated crease pulling at his forehead. “With these other men, it’s just work to me, Zayn. I don’t look at them, and feel for them what I feel for you.” He said, voice edging on desperate as he reached out to take Zayn’s hands in his. “Touching you feels different. Making you feel good feels different. With you, it’s just....it’s not the same, you have to know that.”

“Okay, so if it’s just sex, as you put it, then you would have no problem with me going out and fucking other people, am I right?” Zayn demanded, yanking his hands out from Liam’s, feeling himself crumble when a look of horror crossed over Liam’s face.

“That’s different, and you know it’s different.” Liam said, head shaking from side to side.

“How?” Zayn felt exasperated at this point. “How the fuck is that any different?”

“Because this is my fucking job, Zayn!” Liam hissed back, before clenching his eyes shut. “I entered myself into the business at a time when I was desperate, you cannot go and throw that in my face.”

“And I get that.” Zayn huffed, scratching the back of his neck. “But you can’t be the one setting the ground rules of this if you really want to be with me. If you want this to be real. You have to meet me halfway, somewhere.” Zayn said, fixing Liam with a pleading stare. “What if I decided to sell myself, hm? Could you honestly tell me that you’d be okay with that?”

Liam’s eyes widened, and Zayn might have laughed at how adorable it looked on him if things weren’t so tense.

“No. Zayn, no. You cannot do that, you--”

“What was that?” Zayn cut him off, “Are you now telling me what I’m allowed to do with myself?” Zayn scoffed. “That’s hypocritical of you. I got a visit from your good friend Jeff today. Made me an offer. Think you’d be okay if I went over and let him touch me, and kiss me, and fuck me? It’s all business, right?”

Zayn knew he sounded malicious then, but he couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“No.” Liam all but growled, hands clenched into fists where they rested on the table.

Zayn stared across at him wordlessly. He didn’t even know he was crying, until he felt a tear run down his face.

“I can’t do this anymore.” He mumbled, shocked that the words had even come out of his mouth.

Liam looked lost in every sense of the word. “What?”

“I can’t.” Zayn spoke, voice almost pleading as he crumbled in his seat. “You confuse me so much, Liam. I’ve never--I can’t--” Zayn had to stop and take a breath, furiously wiping at the tears that began spilling out. “I feel things for you that I’ve never… I can’t feel them. I shouldn’t be feeling them. You’re an amazing man, Liam.”

“Zayn.” Liam’s voice sounded cracked. “Please don’t.”

“You’ve been so good to me, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to properly--...to tell you how much this time has meant to me.” Zayn choked back a sob. “I can’t get hurt. I don’t think I could handle it.” Zayn took a trembling breath, clenching his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. “I can’t see you anymore if you can’t compromise. I just--”

Except he couldn’t get anything else out. His throat felt like it was closing up. He wished the ground would open up and swallow him down.

“I can’t.” He said again, standing up. He just barely caught his chair by the armrest as it went to tip over backwards. He wiped at the tears on his face with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, shaking his head. “I’ve got to go.”

“No.” Liam stood, and Zayn’s heart shattered when he noticed the tears pooling up in Liam’s eyes. “Please don’t leave.”

Zayn wanted so badly to listen to him. To stay, and pretend like everything was okay again, and just take Liam home with him again later.

He couldn’t though. Zayn couldn’t go on pretending that he was happy with things just the way they were, because he wasn’t. He had to put himself first.

He reached a hand out, brushing his thumb along Liam’s cheek bone. His skin felt feverish, and Zayn could just barely feel newly grown stubble under the pad of his finger. That spot that he so loved kissing, that he might never kiss again.

He watched Liam’s eyes flutter briefly, watching him raise a hand up to cover Zayn’s where it rested on the side of his face. “You mean so much to me, Zayn. So, so much.” He breathed, lips wobbling as he tried and tried to hold back any more tears.

“So do you.” Zayn breathed, words trembling under the weight of everything. “And I’m so, so sorry, but it’s not enough this time.”

Zayn sniffled, finally pulling his hand away.

It took every ounce of strength left in him to turn away from Liam then, and head back down the block.

He felt numb, like all the happiness left in him had been left back in that ice cream shop. He knew that this was the right decision. He hoped it was, at least. Even if everything felt shitty and bleak, and Zayn didn’t even want to imagine another minute without Liam in his life, and the reality that he’d maybe never get to be with Liam the way he wanted was already driving him mad.

He ignored the looks he got from people who passed him, and he knew he probably looked like death. His hair was a mess, his face was puffy and tear-stricken, and his heart ached so much, that he must have reeked of the longing and emptiness he felt.

************

In the three days that followed, Louis was gentle.

It was strange not hearing his sharp-as-a-whip wit first thing in the morning, every morning, and his sarcasm and general smart-arsery the rest of the day.

But Zayn was thankful. He wasn’t sure he could handle Louis at his finest when he was feeling like this.

The day that Zayn had gotten back from having ice cream with Liam, Louis had immediately sprung up off the couch when he noticed the state Zayn was in.

He and Louis didn’t cry in front of each other. They just didn’t. Even though it had always been a silent, agreed upon rule between them that if they ever needed a shoulder to cry on, they were each others’ go-to for that.

Zayn didn’t think he’d ever take Louis up on that unspoken rule.

But that day he distinctly remembered crying on Louis’ shoulder for hours. He cried wordlessly the whole time, while Louis hugged him tight like he was afraid to let go, whispering gentle, kind words into his ear. Despite however many times Louis tried to ask what was wrong, Zayn could never find the words, and even if he could, his throat felt too thick to form much of anything beyond the pathetic whimpers he let out every couple of seconds. He cried until his voice had gone hoarse, and all the energy had left his body, and that was how he eventually fell asleep: holding Louis close while they were snuggled up on the couch.

The two days that came after felt lifeless and dead, and his eyes were almost always swollen and red, until he was completely cried out.

He called in sick for work, he cut class, and he most definitely didn’t call his mum.

“Babe?”

It was going on day four, and Louis had been coddling him all the while. His jokes were softer, he put effort into making actual meals for the two of them, and Zayn even heard Louis whispering on the phone to Harry some nights, apologizing that he couldn’t meet up with him at that moment. That’s how Zayn knew it was bad. Louis was turning down Harry, of all people.

Zayn didn’t look up at the endearment, simply waiting for Louis to continue, while Zayn flipped through channels. He wasn’t even really tuned in to the projects he was watching, but the white noise and gentle comedy made things a little easier to handle.

“How’re you feeling, hm?” He asked, sinking down into his spot that he’d been occupied, pressed up into Zayn’s side.

Zayn only shrugged a shoulder, grunting instead of vocalizing that, yeah. He was still feeling like shit.

“Oh.” Louis puffed up his cheeks, pressing a hot mug of tea into Zayn’s hand. “I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong.” He said, leaning in to rest his forehead against Zayn’s cheek. “I’m worried about you. Harry and Niall are, too.”

Zayn raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t seem like Harry would have much sympathy for me.” He mumbled, his voice cracking and gravelly. “What did he tell you?” He asked, voice flat.

He could feel Louis tense up next to him, and that alone told him that Harry had told him enough.

“I’d already had a hunch as to what was wrong, but...he sort of helped clarify it some.” Louis mumbled, and out of his peripheral, Zayn could see Louis chewing at the skin around his thumbnail. A bad habit of his.

“Hm.” Zayn exhaled heavily.

They were silent for a few minutes, Zayn only dwelling on how much longer he could avoid leaving the flat, and the hot mug in his hand.

“I’m really sorry, Zayn.” Louis said after a beat of silence. “I know how much you cared about each other.”

“Doesn’t matter anymore.” Zayn said, dropping the remote in his lap. “I knew what I was getting myself in to. I have to own that. I knew it wouldn’t end well, anyway, so really I was just biting myself in the arse.”

He listened to Louis take a deep breath. “However true that might be, I...I’m worried about you.”

Zayn chose not to comment. He’d heal with time.

But what if he didn’t?

Zayn had never been this torn up over a breakup. Was it even a breakup if he and Liam hadn’t even been officially together? It felt like a real breakup, because everything fucking sucked.

“Are you sleeping on the couch again tonight?” Louis asked. Zayn’s bed, along with his whole room, smelled like Liam. Zayn decided to keep his bedroom door shut tight, hoping that maybe if he kept it shut long enough, he’d be able to quarantine the memory and lingering essence of Liam out of it.

“Probably.” He mumbled, turning to give Louis a sheepish look. “Is that okay?”

“Of course it’s okay, Zayn.” Louis said gently, resting a hand on Zayn’s. “I’m just asking because I have to go out later tonight. Harry left some toiletries here that he’s gonna need later.”

“Oh.” Zayn said, and maybe he was going to say something else, but it escaped his mind almost instantly. Instead, he stared off, two inches to the left of where the telly was mounted on the wall.

“Are you going to be okay if I leave the house for an hour or so?” Louis asked gently, giving Zayn’s hand a small squeeze. “I’ll just be uptown for a handful of minutes, and then I’ll be back. It’s the traveling that is the more time-consuming part.”

“Louis.” Zayn said, letting out a weak chuckle. “I’ve been on my own before. I’m a big boy.”

“I know.” Louis smiled, “Just...you know. Making sure.”

Zayn let out a deep breath. He felt bad making Louis feel miserable along with him. He deserved some time out, especially to see Harry.

“Just go. Have a nice time. Stop by to see Niall while you’re at it, he’s been texting you non stop.”

“I know.” Louis shrugged a shoulder, “But you’re more important right now.”

Zayn almost cried again. Almost. He didn’t deserve someone like Louis in his life.

“I love you.” he mumbled, leaning over to press a kiss to Louis’ cheek. “You’re helping me just by being here like this. And you deserve a night out. I think Niall thinks we’re all dead, so you might want to go give him some peace of mind.”

“I love you, too.” Louis beamed, and it was the first real smile Zayn had seen from him in days. “I’ll see you in a couple hours then, okay? And if you need me at all--I don’t care what the emergency might be--but if you need me to come back right away, don’t hesitate to call, okay?”

Zayn let out another weak laugh, weakly shoving at one of Louis’ shoulders. “Get outta here. I’ll be just fine. I promise you.”

Zayn doesn’t miss the barely contained glee behind Louis’ faint smile, and turns his attention back to the telly, while Louis scrambles to get his things together.

They wave goodbye to each other minutes later, and Zayn almost has to force Louis out the door when Louis starts to have second thoughts about leaving. Something about feeling guilty leaving Zayn all alone. Zayn didn’t really register it.

It wasn’t until Louis was gone that Zayn realized how exhausted he was.

He hadn’t slept much after that first night, and the three nights of almost no sleep were starting to weigh him down now.

He tossed the remote onto the coffee table, before sinking down to lay on his side, pulling the blankets up around himself.

He remembers seeing something of an ad flashing across the screen, before he sees nothing at all, sinking into a deep slumber.

*************

There’s a knock at the door that’s pulling Zayn out of a sleepless rest, and he has to physically resist the urge to hurl the telly remote over towards the door.

Honestly, Louis has his own fucking key, so why is knocking?

One look at the clock on his phone, Zayn discovers that it’s half past eleven, and...okay. Maybe Louis was out drinking with Niall. It might explain why he can’t get his bloody keys in the door.

“Shut the fuck up!” Zayn calls when there’s another knock.

He drags himself off the couch, wrapping one of the thicker blankets around his shoulders, using one of the walls to safely make his way to the front door in the dark, only stubbing his pinkie toe once.

“I’m coming. Fuck.” he grumbles, because Louis apparently just doesn’t know when enough is enough.

He undoes the latch on the door, then the deadbolt, before he’s yanking it open in one quick motion, blinking against the blare of a streetlamp that keeps the person at the door perfectly silhouetted.

He knows that silhouette, though.

Louis isn’t that tall, or built, and Zayn thinks just for a second that maybe he’s still dreaming, and his mind is playing some sick fucking joke on him, because of course his body would decide to fuck him over.

His voice immediately wavers, and he staggers a few steps back. He reaches behind him to feel around the wall for one of the light switches, finding the first one, and switching it on.

“Hey.” Liam says finally, and oh no. Zayn can’t handle this.

“No.” He says, shaking his head. “No. Nope.”

“Zayn.” Liam says quietly, and when Zayn really looks at him, he can see large dark circles under Liam’s eyes, and dried tears down his cheeks.

Zayn wraps his blanket tighter around himself, still only half conscious while simultaneously having an internal panic.

“I couldn’t do it.” Liam chokes out, and his voice sounds truly desperate then.

Zayn swallows. “Couldn’t do what, Liam?” he asks carefully.

“I was with a client tonight.” Liam says, both hands coming up to massage his temples. “I was with a client. A regular. A very important regular of mine, and I just--I couldn’t fucking do it, Zayn.” He huffs.

Zayn can only stare, slowly, very slowly, waking.

“Yeah. For the first time in my life, I had to look at a client and give his money back, before excusing myself. I must’ve looked so fucking pathetic.” Liam let out a laugh that sounded almost manic. “Can you imagine the look on the client’s face? God, I thought he was going to beat the shit out of me, he was so angry.”

“I don’t--” Zayn blinks, licking his lips. He’s reeling on the inside, and he so badly wants to grab Liam by the shirt, and shake him, and cry, and yell at him, and never let him go. “I’m not sure that I understand.”

“Zayn, if you tell me to leave, I swear to you, I’ll leave.” Liam says, fixing Zayn with a look that could only be read as desperation. “But I can’t be without you. It’s always been you.”

And those words only make Zayn ache even more, but it’s an ache that almost feels good. He feels like this moment could shatter at any time, but Liam was so, so close to saying what Zayn needed him to say.

“I couldn’t wait any longer, I-” Liam exhaled heavily, going to reach for Zayn, before pulling away. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever met, and every time I’m with you, I...it’s not even possible to describe. You’re more than I ever expected, and when I look at you, and when I’m with you, I never want to be away from you. You touch me, and I feel it everywhere.”

Zayn has to lean against the wall, because he doesn’t think he can stand on his own anymore. He holds a hand up when Liam goes to continue. “Please. Just get your arse in here.”

Liam doesn’t skip a beat, surging forwards to shut the door behind them.

“I hate myself for feeling this way, because I was never supposed to fall for anyone. Not now. And...I think it’s safe to say, it’s effectively ruined my career.” Liam mumbled, letting out a weak laugh.

Zayn can’t bare it anymore. “No, Liam. I’ve spent the last almost week crying over you, I can’t do this ag-” he shakes his head, throat feeling too thick to finish his sentence.

“I love you.” Liam breathes, and he looks for all the world like he couldn’t believe he’d just said that.

“No.” Zayn grumbles, shoving weakly at Liam’s shoulders. “You can’t just come in here, and-and d-do this again.” But he doesn’t get much out before Liam’s tugging him in by the edge of his blanket, wrapping his arms tightly around Zayn’s frame

“I fucking love you, Zayn.” Liam mumbles, nose brushing across Zayn’s cheek. “Please. Don’t tell me I’m the only one feeling this way.”

Zayn is relaxing into his embrace, before he’s pushing away again, not sure whether he wants to bruise Liam’s lips with kisses, or go bury himself under the pile of blankets on the couch, and pretend like none of this is actually happening.

He pushed at Liam’s chest, putting some distance between them.

“No!” He snaps, breathing heavily, because it’s all he can do not to lean back into Liam’s arms again. “It’s not fair. I’m not supposed to love you.” He chokes back tears, clenching his hands into fists. “It’s not fair, because I do, and I fucking hate it, but I do.”

He watches Liam stare at him like he’s made of porcelain, and Zayn never realized how much he needed that. That outer shell of Liam cracked, and all the raw emotion was allowed to bleed through, and make itself known.

“You love me.” Liam states, sounding a little shocked at the idea. “Please, Zayn. Just come here. I’m having a hard enough time dealing with all of this, as I can tell that you are as well.” He breathes, reaching a hand out. “Please, Zee.”

Zayn’s shoves at Liam’s chest again, tears running down his cheeks. “I’ve cried over you way too much, Liam. I don’t think I can do it again.”

“I don’t want to make you cry. Please.” Liam says, cautiously drawing Zayn in by the sleeve of his shirt, and Zayn wants to melt under his touch. “I never want to make you cry.” He whispers against his cheek, pressing feather light kisses there.

“I love you.” Zayn sobs, finally relaxing, wrapping shaky arms around Liam’s shoulders. “You’re an arsehole, and I love you.”

His heart warms a little when he feels Liam let out a tiny laugh at that, holding him close, but carefully.

“Never let me go, please.” Zayn breathes, a hand tracing up to bury itself in Liam’s light brown hair. “Just so I know this is real.”

“Okay,” Liam breathes, and Zayn can still hear the shaking in his voice. They’re both flustered, shaken, and messy with salty, hot tears. “I don’t think you could ever lose me, even if you tried. I’m never able to stay away.” He snorts, finally pulling back to press his lips to Zayn’s, and it’s slow, and light, and so different from their usual version of messy, where they’re trying to pull each others’ clothes off as fast as they can.

“Say it again, please.” Liam mumbles against his lips, combing his fingers down Zayn’s cheek, again and again. “Just so I know.”

Zayn is so exhausted, he realizes. But he’s not sure he could deny Liam that request, even if he wanted to.

He pulls out of the embrace, bunching a hand into the front of Liam’s sweater, pulling him out into the living room.

It’s when Zayn finally dares to open the door to his bedroom, and when they’re curled up together under Zayn’s sheets that he really needs to wash, that he utters it again.

“I love you.” He whispers, lips brushing across the shell of Liam’s ear, smiling when Liam hugs him closer.

“Babe, I love you, too.”

 **  
**And maybe there’s still a lot hanging in the air. A lot they needed to discuss still. But for tonight, it feels like the closest thing to a promise that Zayn will get.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, okay, I think this chapter is super boring, so I'm so, so sorry to put you through this. I hope it's not, but I was having a hard time figuring out how to tie this all together into one ending, and this is what was produced. 
> 
> Again, really sorry for any typos! I know I make a lot of mistakes, and they're probably awful.
> 
> Warning for larry fluff at the beginning, because why not. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading. You've all been so kind, that I'm not even sure how to thank any of you enough, and I hope that this ending isn't a total let down. 
> 
> All my love xx

**Harry’s POV**

Harry tilted his head to the side as he stared into the mirror, running the pads of his fingers down one cheekbone. He tilted his head the other way, and did the same, nose scrunching up when he one of his fingers pressed against a blemish that was steadily beginning to form, small and just a shy shade of pink. Just barely a bump under the skin.

It wouldn’t do.

He pulled the mirror open with the tips of his fingers, rummaging around the cases of creams, cotton swabs, and other toiletries, before plucking a travel-sized bottle from its spot in the middle. It smelled sweet like grapefruits, and made his face sting faintly, and Harry could imagine that that small amount of pain was rejuvenating every little pore that littered his skin.

His clients liked clear skin. Gave the illusion of youth, is what he heard.

His clients liked lots of things, and even though he found it exhausting and daunting at the worst of times, Harry was there to please, and frankly, he was good at his job.

He shaved his underarms, watching wiry, thick hairs wash away down the drain. He smeared concealer over every blemish, every scar. Powdered and foundationed his face and throat. Styled his hair in a careless, intentionally disheveled swoop. Scrubbed and exfoliated every inch of himself.

He stood back, and eyed himself in the cracked mirrored surface, sliding his fingertips along the underneaths of his eyes.

He didn’t really want to leave the house tonight. He loved the feeling of being home too much. Loved being in a place that felt so safe, and so loved. It was worlds better than spending a night, or at least a couple hours, in a seedy motel room, or in an unfamiliar flat or condo, filled to the brim with lifeless, expressionless furniture that didn’t so much scream “home” as it did “big wallet”.

But a job was a job, and money was money, and if Harry wanted to eat and remain in that place that reeked of home, he’d have to make some concessions.

He pulled on a sheer black shirt that hugged every muscle and ripple of his abs, and a simple pair of black jeans that hugged his legs like a second skin, before walking barefoot out into his living room.

He leaned over the back of the couch, eyes trained on the telly. A rerun of his favorite show. He always laughed at the same parts, and cracked a crooked smile at every jape. It reminded him so much of his mum and her cackly laugh that it made him ache inside.

He checked his phone for any messages, before tossing it aside, watching it bounce on one of the cushions, eventually settling.

Harry had his thumb hovering over the power button on the remote, hesitating for a minute, and right as he went to press down on it, a sharp rap at the door made him drop the heavy piece of plastic, listening to it clack against the hardwood flooring.

He frowned, head craning back to look at the clock on the DVD player. He wasn’t supposed to meet his client for another fifteen minutes, and he knew better than to let any of them know where he lived.

He took a deep breath, quietly tiptoeing over to the front door. He scrunched down, eyelashes fluttering against the oak, as he leaned his ear against the door.

He heard almost nothing, until the sound of shattering glass had him recoiling, eyebrows scrunching together.

He unlatched every lock, leaving the chain bolted, before very carefully pulling the door open.

“Well, _fuck me,_ you take forever to open the door. You prick.”

Harry’s eyes darted down to where Louis was squatted, hands hovering over shattered pieces of glass, and a big puddle.

“Louis.” He spoke, eyeing him carefully, almost surprised to find that he was biting back a smile. “Pleasure seeing you here.”

He leaned back to close the door and undo the chain, before pulling it open again.

“Yeah, well the pleasure is all yours.” Louis mumbled, picking up the largest pieces of glass, carefully resting them in the palm of his hand.

“Hey. _Hey, hey, hey_ , careful, you.” Harry mumbled, kneeling down to cup one of Louis’ hands with his, carefully grabbing the glass shards from his palm. “You sound drunk, are you drunk?”

He snorted while watching a loopy, manic smile wiggle its way across Louis’ lips.

“Maybe.” Louis sighed, giving Harry’s cheek a gentle pinch.

Harry wrinkled his nose when he felt a trail of moisture left from where Louis’ hand had been, and when he raised Louis’ hand to his face, nose hovering above the palm of his hand, he inhaled deeply. “Beer? _Really?_ You brought your own beer to my flat?”

“Niall gave it to me.” Louis answered, laughing behind the palm of his hand like it was a dirty secret. “He’s such a babe.”

“And you’re such a lightweight.” Harry teased, giving Louis’ nose a little pinch.

Louis looked offended for a second. “Fuck you, am not.”

“You are, but that’s okay.” Harry grinned, taking both of Louis’ hands to help him stand. “So tell me what you’re doing here, then. Not that I’m not pleased. Always like when you spontaneously materialize at my front door.” He snorted, leading Louis inside with the palm of his hand pressed to his lower back.

He’d take care of the broken glass later.

He kicked the door shut, casting a glance to the clock again. He had exactly seven minutes before he really needed to leave. But when he looked back to Louis, stinking of beer and sweat and that aftershave he always wore, Harry couldn’t help thinking that maybe this was more important right now.

“Left Zayn at home. I thought that maybe Niall would be a good boy, and get drunk with me.” He mumbled, flopping down onto Harry’s couch, legs thrown over the armrest. “But...he was doing homework. So, I drank his liquor, and decided to come over here, and blow you. But I think I drank a little too much.” He exhaled sharply, pouting like he was disappointed in himself for not being able to suck Harry off.

He was so cute.

Harry buried a laugh behind the palm of his hand, walking to stand behind the couch. He reached down to brush his thumb across Louis’ lips. “Another night.”

“Ugh.” Louis groaned, knocking his head back against the cushion. “You look so hot, though. That’s just so rude, you fuck.” He mumbled, reaching up to press the palm of his hand to Harry’s stomach, fingers splaying out across his skin.

Harry could only laugh, reaching down to cover Louis’ hand with his own. “I’m sure you’ll live, my love.” He said, giving Louis’ hand a squeeze, before stepping away.

He turned his back to Louis as he made his way to the kitchen, resting his forehead against one of the kitchen cupboards, hearing a hollow thud when his head hit the wood.

He was not supposed to feel this way.

His stomach wasn’t supposed to become a tangle of knots when Louis’ hands touched him anywhere. He wasn’t supposed to want to neglect anything and everything, just to watch the way sunlight illuminated Louis’ skin in the morning. He wasn’t supposed to want Louis with everything in him, but he did.

He wanted Louis close always. Wanted to kiss him, and hold him, and never let go, and that was always the problem. Harry loved feeling this way. So absorbed in someone else that he can forget about anything else that might be bothering him, or at least momentarily.

“You’re all dressed up.”

Harry pulled away from where he was leaned against the counter, turning to give Louis a coy smile where the boy was holding onto a wall for support. “Keen observation, Tomlinson. Please don’t puke on my floor.”

Louis gave him the finger, and Harry snorted.

“God, you’re such a smartarse.”

“But, baby, you love my arse.” He grinned crookedly.

Louis’ eyebrows lifted up, before his eyes flicked ceilingward. “You hardly have an arse. It’s like two pale pancakes glued to the backs of your thighs.”

“Yes.” Harry agreed, “But you like it, no?”

“You’re an idiot.” Louis grumbled, walking past Harry on unsteady feet to grab a water glass from one of Harry’s cupboards, holding it under the tap to fill it with water.

Banter between them was always like this, but Harry loved it. Louis was so beautifully prickly and brittle, and Harry ate it right up.

He watched Louis take a long drink, eyes skimming over Harry’s get-up for a quiet moment or two, before pulling the glass away from his lips. “C’mon. You look all done up.” He noted, teeth pulling at his bottom lip. “I hope I haven’t come at a bad time. You having company, or going out, or something? A date, maybe?”

Harry stared at Louis mutely, eyes flickering back to the clock.

If he’d left about two minutes ago, he’d be arriving at the motel promptly when he was supposed to.

“No.” Harry shrugged, crossing his arms across his chest. “Had a client earlier.”

“Oh.” Was all Louis said after that.

For a second, they just stared at each other, taking each other in. Like there was energy charging the air between them, and neither of them knew how to use that energy, or figure out how to manipulate it.

Harry broke out into a smile after a second, before reaching out to grab Louis by the front of his shirt, tugging him gently towards the living room again. “I’m missing my show, and you’re gonna make it up to me by watching the rest of it with me.”  
  


“Fine. Bossy.” Louis mumbled, gripping one of Harry’s arms to keep himself upright.

They make it to the couch with minimal injury, except for the part where Louis quite literally trips on his own foot, but by the time they’ve collapsed onto the cushions, Harry feels zero guilt whatsoever choosing Louis tonight. Out of courtesy, though…

He reaches over for his phone, thumbing out a quick message. Something along the lines of not feeling well, and promising to reschedule with a generous discount.

It’s sometime between episodes, where they somehow end up on opposite ends of the couch, feet resting in the others’ lap, and this somehow leads to them giving each other half-arsed foot massages. Their eyes are glazed over while they both stare at the screen, and Harry rolls his thumbs over the arch of Louis’ foot when he’s suddenly struck with a question.

“You had a client tonight, didn’t you?”

Harry turns his attention to look at Louis, but Louis’ looking back at the telly, almost like nothing had been said at all.

He gives Louis a curious look. Louis must be the only person he knows who actually has some sense of clarity when they’re wasted.

“I mean. After you fuck someone, usually your hair’s a mess, maybe your clothes are a little wrinkled or out of place, and you usually carry this aura of bliss and satisfaction. I mean, this doesn’t just apply to you.” Louis speaks finally. He sounds so zoned out that Harry can imagine that the words are coming out on auto-pilot, rather than actual will. “But you look like you’ve just done yourself up for a night out. You didn’t lie to me, did you?”

Harry only scrunches up his shoulders in a shrug, tasting the words on his tongue, before they leave his mouth. “Had better things to do. I think I’ve earned a few nights off.”

“Oh.” Is all Louis says, “Ohhh, right there.” He adds, hissing in a breath when Harry presses his thumb into a tense muscle.

They’re quiet again, the silence sometimes interrupted by a groan when one or both of them rubs just the right spot.

“Would you ever quit?” Louis asks, his gaze finally breaking away from the screen to look at Harry, expression guarded, like he’s holding back any flicker of emotion. The perfect poker face. “You know. Start over.”

Harry lets the thought marinate around in his head for a few moments, and it’s not like he hasn’t asked himself this question at least once a week, but it’s still something he finds himself revisiting, and his conclusion is different every time.

“Not sure.” He finally says, hands giving Louis’ foot a gentle squeeze, before he’s moving on to the next one. “I know I can’t do this forever, obviously. But I make good money. It’s the first time I’ve been able to be truly independent, and support myself, while also being able to give back to others.” He explains, giving Louis a meek smile as he does, and he thinks then that he’s so lucky he gets to see Louis like this. Completely candid, and stripped of his usual garb. And he’s so beautiful. “So, in that sense, it’ll be hard to let go. But I’d like to eventually. See where life takes me, you know?”

“Yeah.” Louis says, offering a tiny smile in return. “I mean, no, I don’t understand the business part, considering I’ve never done what you do. But I see why.”

“Yeah.” Harry repeats, gently running his nails up and down Louis’ legs, just the gentlest of touches. Something that Harry very much fancied. “I know that we haven’t established anything like ground rules, or what we are to each other, really. I know that my lifestyle...well. Not everyone likes it, or respects it. I don’t expect you to want to continue down this road with me if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” Louis joked, feigning mock horror, as he presses a hand to his chest, gasping. He laughs, before shaking his head. “No. I mean, _yeah,_ I know you’re gonna fuck other men, but. I just like being with you. And I know your heart’s in the right place. If I thought you were truly unhappy, then I’d probably say something. But you know you.” He mumbles, shoulders scrunched up. “And sex is just sex. I can live with that.”

Harry’s eyebrows lift up, pleasantly surprised. “Really?” He lets out a deep breath. Relieved. There’s always some risk with getting involved with people when one does what Harry does. If Louis asked though, Harry would give it up in a heartbeat. It was no contest, really. “I’m so used to dealing with Liam’s sour mood after he and Zayn get into it. I was worried.” He admitted, letting out a breath that was half a laugh and half a sigh.

“They’re a special case.” Louis snorted, eyes flicking ceilingward briefly. “Poor Zayn’s been in a right state these last couple of days. Cried on me all night. Things must be bad for them, and I mean really bad, because Zayn doesn’t cry. He’s not the stoic type, but he’s not one for crying, either.” Louis frowned.

“It’s different for everyone, I suppose.” He agreed, giving Louis’ leg a small clap. “Guess I just got lucky with you.”

Louis’ expression looks closer to startled than anything else right then, but it quickly smooths out into something completely neutral. “Fuck _yes_ , you did.” Louis snorts, “With how often I let you eat my food? I’d fucking hope that you’d think so. You’re an expensive fuck buddy.”

Harry’s tongue is caught between his teeth when he grins, and he lets go of Louis’ foot to lean forward, pulling Louis closer by the front of his shirt. “I know. I’ll pay you back.”

They meet somewhere in the middle, the kiss gentle and slow at first, and it makes Harry’s head swim. Any doubts he’d had before dissipate completely with how easily Louis’ lips fit against his own. They just fit.

“I can think of a few ways in which you could pay me back.” Louis says, eyebrows waggling mischievously. “If you know what I mean.”

“I know you think you’re subtle, but believe me. I know what you mean.” Harry snorts, reaching up to pinch one of Louis’ cheeks. “Another night.”

Louis groans heavily against his mouth, digging his fingers into Harry’s curls, messing up the carefully crafted structure of his hair. “But I want you now.”

“I know.” Harry coos, giving Louis’ thigh a careful squeeze. “Imagine how good it’ll feel when your head is a little clearer. Just relax with me tonight.”

“You’re so boring.” Louis grumbles, but Harry knows he’s kidding. On some level.

“But you like my boring.”

“We’ll see.” Louis leans back in his seat, and Harry follows, blanketing Louis’ body with his own. “Did you want something?”

Harry grins again, leaning down to kiss Louis’ chin. “Just wanted to kiss you a little more, is all.”

“You’re a fucking sap.” Louis mumbles, sliding his hands up under Harry’s shirt. “But I think I can make an exception, since you’re an unreasonably, hellishly attractive sap.” He adds, and Harry’s vividly aware of Louis’ hand slipping lower and lower, cupping the crotch of his jeans.

Harry playfully slapped Louis’ hand away, pinning his wrist to the couch cushion. “Uh uh. None of that tonight.”

“Well, then get back down there and rub my feet. Didn’t come all this way for nothing.” Louis huffs, pressing his hand flat to Harry’s chest.

“Yes, dear.” Harry grins, pulling back entirely to sit on his respective side of the couch.

His eyes are trained on Louis’ face still, even when Louis’ seemingly lost all interest, and has turned his gaze back to the telly screen.

Ice blue eyes meet his again, and for a second they just stare at each other, before twin smiles break across both their faces.

“You’re such a prat.” Louis mumbles, swatting one of Harry’s feet, before going back to rubbing it.

“And you love it, anyway.” Harry retorts, leaning down to press a kiss to Louis’ shin.

***************

**Zayn’s POV**

Zayn never usually wakes this early unless he has to. Mornings were never really his thing.

This particular morning, however, he’s not particularly keen on sleeping in, mainly because he _can’t._

He’d wasted so many tears over the last couple of days--although they were shed for Liam, so maybe it was worth it--and he felt so raw still, like an open scab. He’d spilled way more than he wanted to the night before, and the sheer memory of him confessing his love to Liam in such a dramatic fashion had him reeling, and maybe a little bit in shock still.

He cradled his cup of coffee, letting the glazed clay mug burn the palms of his hands, while steam rolled in tendrils from behind the rim.

Across from him, Liam was in much of the same position, sitting at the small, clunky dining table that neither he nor Louis found much use for. They always ate in the living room, sitting in front of the telly anyway.

Everything was out in the open between them, and Zayn still wasn’t entirely sure whether that was a good or bad thing, yet. The churning in his stomach wasn’t much of an indication.

They both sat in silence, occasionally taking a small sip, feeling the bitter after taste of coffee heavy on Zayn’s tongue.

Liam finally shifted forward in his chair, propping his elbows up on the table. “Can we make a small truce? I don’t want to argue with you today.” Liam speaks, his voice so sharp in contrast to the heavy silence that it startles Zayn a little.

The idea makes a smile curve at Zayn’s lips. Only a tiny one. “Sure.” he snorts, raising his mug to his mouth, folding his lips around the rim.

Liam smiles at that, eyes twinkling some, although Zayn can tell that Liam hasn’t had too much sleep either.

Zayn remembers last night very well, because Liam’s eyes had reflected the moon, and Zayn saw galaxies in them. They’d stared at each other for hours, between touches and kisses, and everything that felt too heavy to say, instead replaced by what they could say through contact.

Zayn didn’t even remember falling asleep, but one moment he was pressing a groggy kiss to Liam’s chin, and the next thing he knew, it was morning.

“So...we’re in agreement then? No arguing? I know we like to argue, but maybe we should tone it down some, hm?” Liam added, a teasing tone laced in his voice.

Zayn snorted, “As much as I’d love to start a shouting match, I think I can reel it in for one day.”

Liam’s smile sends fluttering through Zayn’s stomach, and he has to look away again, because fuck that.

“I’ve, uh.” Liam starts, scratching the back of his neck, like he always did when he went to say something particularly out of his comfort zone. “I’ve thought about things.”  
  


“Oh.” Zayn mused. “Thought about things. _Deep.”_

“Wow, you’re snippy this morning.” Liam snorted, eyes flickering to the ceiling, before they landed back on Zayn. “Maybe we need to get you in bed a little earlier at night, because you’re grumpy when you get no sleep.”

“Yeah, that’s all thanks to you, if you remember.”

“Hey,” Liam raised his hands in defense, a smile pulling at his lips. “I didn’t force you to stay awake.”

“You certainly didn’t help-”

_“Anyway-”_ Liam snorted, eyes rolling, before his expression began to soften. “I have things to say.”

Zayn stayed quiet, giving silent permission for him to continue.

He watched Liam suck a deep breath in, neck muscles tensing all at once, before relaxing. “I meant everything I said last night.” he sighed, licking his lips. He locked eyes with Zayn, “I love you. I don’t even know how it happened, or when it happened, but I do. And it scared me at first, when I actually started realizing what I felt, because every time I see you, it gets hard to breathe.”

He paused for a moment, swallowing heavily, and Zayn had to drum his fingers against his knee, tap his feet against the floor, anything to keep from throwing himself at Liam.

“And I started thinking,” Liam went on, his face displaying a mixture of fear and determination. “About our situation. What I was willing to sacrifice for you, what I wasn’t willing to give up, what I was still on the fence about. I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to let go of this thing--what I do, selling myself--because when I really think about it, I only want to be touched, and kissed, and fucked, and loved by you. I don’t know why I’m so stubborn. Maybe I’m just used to this business, because it sucks you in, and once you’re hooked, it’s hard to even fathom letting go.” He ran his tongue across his bottom lip, and Zayn traced the movement with his eyes, watching a shiny wet trail left on his rosy, pink skin. His heart was all the way up in his throat. “And I’m so sorry I’ve kept this hanging over you. The more you shamed me for what I did, the more I wanted to resist, and take control of my own body, just to show you. But now I know why what I do makes you uncomfortable. Maybe it wouldn’t if-...if we didn’t care about each other like we did, but we do. And I’m not the kind of person who can be with multiple people. I know it works for some, but it doesn’t work for me, and god….thinking about you with Jeff--or anyone else for that matter--just...makes me crazy. And I can’t hold you to a standard that I won’t also hold myself to. If it doesn’t work for one of us, it doesn’t work for both of us, right?”

Liam took a deep breath then, eyes trained on one of the many scratches on the dining room table. “I just love you. And I want to be with you. If you’ll have me. And...I’m gonna give it up. For you, and for me.”

Zayn’s hands trembled. He’d blame it on the caffeine on an empty stomach. He felt the blood drain from his face, because everything he could’ve wanted had just slipped from Liam’s lips in a promise that had him physically shaken.

He didn’t even realize when the minutes stretched on, and neither of them had said a thing, until he felt a warm, thick hand go to rest on top of his, carefully stilling the tremors that jittered Zayn’s bones.

“Zayn.” He said softly, and Zayn wanted to crumble with how delicate his voice had suddenly become. “Please say something, I...not talking is making me more nervous than talking.”

Zayn swallowed, listening to his blood rushing in his ears. “Yeah.” he forced out, feeling Liam’s warmth all over just from a simple touch on the hand. “That’s...I can’t ask you to do that, Liam.” He mumbled, voice cracking every other syllable.

“I’m not asking you to.” Liam said, voice quieter. “I want to. I want to be domestic and boring with you. I want to wake up to you, because you’re my favorite thing to wake up to.”

Zayn wasn’t sure he deserved to be loved this much. So wholly, and completely, and sweetly. It felt addictive in the best and worst way.

“Fuck.” he breathed, dropping his head down to look at his lap. “Li, you’re too good.”

“What?” Liam’s eyebrows drew together. “I don’t follow.”

“I’ve said so much that I shouldn’t have, how is it that you can look at me and feel these things?” He asked, expression lost. “I just don’t get it.”

“Zayn.” He heard Liam laugh, and he felt his hand being lifted, warm lips press to his knuckles in the sweetest gesture. “No matter how much we argue, and we argue a whole fucking lot, I still think the sun shines out your arse. Metaphorically. I don’t want to be away from you, and I know that that might not be a good thing sometimes, but fuck, Zayn, you make me feel these things, I can’t even describe it.”

Zayn brought his other hand up to fold around Liam’s, feeling the weight of it between his palms for a second. Zayn had never been loved like this, or loved someone else like this, and he didn’t know how to come to terms with that yet.

“If you’re willing, and I mean actually willing, to give all that up…” He paused for breath, “...then I’ll be with you.” He said, finally lifting his eyes to Liam’s.

He watched Liam’s expression go serious, before he was standing, pulling Zayn up with him to wrap his arms around Zayn’s waist, squeezing him so tight. Zayn buried his face into Liam’s neck, breathing him in and closing his eyes tight as he wrapped tight arms around Liam’s shoulders. “Fuck, I love you.” He breathed, pressing his lips to the space between Liam’s shoulder and his neck. “So much, it’s actually kind of nauseating.”

Liam snorted, leaning back, but not completely. “I want to look at you, you’re so beautiful.” Liam said, bringing one hand up to cup his cheek. “You’re so, so beautiful. You have to know that.”

Zayn felt a tingling in the tip of his nose, and he shook his head. He was not going to fucking cry. Again.

“Don’t let go of me for a little while, okay?” Liam asked, voice barely above a whisper as he pressed his forehead up against Zayn’s, nose brushing his. “I just need this to sink in.”

“Don’t be a tool,” Zayn mumbled, head dipping to the side a little to ghost his lips across Liam’s, feeling warm breath rush across his skin. “I think I need it to sink in a little more, too. I can’t...I’ve never been with a boy. Like this.”

“Is it so different than what you’re used to?” Liam asked, eyebrow arching up.

“Uh. Yeah. You don’t have tits, or a vagina, and you fuck me like five times a night, so yeah, it’s a little different.” He snorted, pushing a hand up under Liam’s shirt to feel along every ripple of his abs.

Liam rolled his eyes, “Okay, _physically_ it’s different. And yes, my stamina is _awesome."_  He breaks off, shooting Zayn a cheeky grin, to which Zayn can only roll his eyes, "But is being attracted to a boy so different? Emotionally? Chemically?”

Zayn chewed his bottom lip. “It’s more intense with you, I think.” He added, eyes opening, eyelashes tickling Liam’s cheekbone. “I’m not out to my parents.” He spoke, hushed.

Liam pulled back to look at him, and Zayn found himself wilting when fingers brushed across his forehead. “Okay.”

Zayn swallowed, “I can’t introduce you to them. Not now. Not soon.” He felt guiltier as he went on.

“That’s okay.” Liam hushed him gently, pushing a hand through Zayn’s hair. “All in your own time. I’ve got a sister who fancies meeting you, so that can be family enough for now.” He snorted.

“What about your parents?” Zayn asked, walking them backwards towards the couch. “Your foster parents. Do they know?”

Liam nodded, smiling. “Yeah, they know about me. Not about you yet. But that could change. When you’re ready, yeah?”

Zayn looked away to smile, because god they were so sappy today. Zayn would probably be sick to his stomach if he had to witness anyone else in this situation.

“Yeah.” Zayn sighed, guiding Liam down onto his back.

Liam went willingly, getting himself comfortable with his eyes locked to Zayn’s the whole time. Like if he looked away, even for a second, Zayn would be gone.

Zayn moved to straddle Liam’s lap, sinking down slowly. He was pleased the small intake of breath he heard, feeling Liam’s hands instantly go to his thighs.

“If I was more rested,” Zayn spoke, each syllable deliberate, “And it wasn’t so early in the morning, I’d ride you.”

Liam’s eyes darkened, and Zayn watched his pupil’s dilate, an eclipse of inky black in the russet brown of his eyes.

“You make that sound so tempting.” Liam mumbled, pushing a hand up the front of Zayn’s shirt, and Zayn shivered. “Because I kind of want you to.”

“Only kind of?” Zayn snorted, “Might not do it at all now.”

He watched Liam’s pink lips pull into a sugary sweet grin, and Zayn wanted to bite the smile from them.

“Do you realize how sexy you are when you’re like this?” Liam arched an eyebrow. “All moody, and irritable. It’s hot.”

“You’re a dork.” Zayn mumbled, grinding his hips down into Liams. He felt his own cock begin to stir in the constraints of his pants, and yeah, he pretty much wanted Liam like this. Now.

He felt pleased at the sharp intake of breath he got from Liam, feeling warm fingers dig into his waist, pulling him down against his lap.

“You seem to like me, even if, yes, I am a dork.” Liam said, sitting up to press his lips to Zayn’s, securing an arm around his slim waist.

“Yeah. That’s true.” Zayn spoke against his lips, hips inclining down into his lap again, feeling the line of Liam’s prick, half hard against the back of his thigh.

He caught Liam’s bottom lip between his teeth when he reached down to undo the fastenings on Liam’s joggers, slipping a nimble hand down the front, pressing his palm to his hardening length. “Is this okay?”

“Don’t ask questions with obvious answers.” Liam snorted, moaning quietly when Zayn’s fingers brushed over the head through his boxer briefs.

“Mm, good.” Zayn mumbled, tilting his head to lick at the seal of Liam’s lips, until he felt him open up eagerly. He licked into his open mouth, humming against his mouth when he felt Liam’s tongue stroke against his in delicate brushes.

He pushed down into Liam’s lap, feeling him hard and straining against his arse, and took that as a small victory. He wanted to work Liam up, and have him begging for it, but Liam did this for a living, or he used to, at least. He knew it wouldn’t be nearly that easy.

And suddenly it was Zayn being slammed down onto the couch, winded momentarily, and all too aware of the fact that Liam had him completely pinned against the couch, holding his wrists up above his head.

“I’m gonna show you how nice and slow I can be.” Liam spoke low in his ear. “And you’re gonna love it.”

Zayn shivered, bracing both legs on either side of Liam’s hips, and he could already feel his cock twitching fully hard in his pants, already aching to be touched. He absolutely loved Liam like this. Controlling and dominant. Only in bed, of course. Or, the couch, in this particular case.

“Just get your pants off already.” Zayn whined, lifting his hips up to rock them against Liam’s. “Don’t have all fucking year.”

Liam only slid his hand down the front of Zayn’s pants, and down his briefs, wrapping his fingers around the base of Zayn’s prick, giving him a squeeze. “Behave, babe, and I’ll get my pants off.”

Zayn bites his tongue then, despite the urge to make some other smartarse comment.

It’s just when Liam’s sitting up to peel his shirt off that both their heads snap towards the door, hearing keys slide into the lock, and then they’re scrambling off the couch in an instant, both doing up the fastenings on their pants in record time.

“We’re home, bitches.” Louis mumbles as way of greeting, stopping when he spots the both Zayn and Liam stood in the living room, a couple feet between them. And they must look like a right sight too, with their hair a complete mess, and their lips bitten and red.

“Okay, no. Have sex in your bedroom. I don’t want any more jizz stains on the couch, please. That’s nasty.” Louis grumbles, shooting Zayn a look like You know better, you prick.

“I walked in on you giving Harry a blowjob on our couch. And fucking on our couch. I almost broke my nose.” Zayn deadpans, pushing down his semi that’s still aching. “I don’t think you have any room telling me when it is and isn’t okay to get jizz on our couch. Hi, Harry.” He adds, giving the taller boy a wave.

Harry looks between them all, smiling like it’s christmas morning.

“Morning, Zayn. _Liam.”_ Harry tucks his arms behind his back, smile blooming into an actual grin, “Nice boner, Li.”

“Fuck off.” Liam grumbles, turning away to adjust himself.

“Aw, no, don’t be sour, my sweet.” Harry pouts. “You’ve got a very nice dick. I wouldn’t hide it either.”

“Oh _god,_ what are you even still doing here?” Liam groans, shooting Harry a look over his shoulder.

“I’m fucking the owner of the flat, so…” He grins, sucking in a breath.

“Anyway.” Zayn blinks. The mood has definitely been killed.

Louis reaches for Zayn’s wrist, tugging him towards the kitchen. They stop when they’re out of earshot from the other boys, and Louis’ expression softens instantly.

“So, is everything squared away now?” Louis asks, reaching up to brush his hand through Zayn’s hair. “I know I should’ve called last night, but I had way too much to drink. Kind of my fault, kind of Niall’s fault.”

Zayn smiles a little. “No, I’m okay now.” He says, glancing back to Harry and Liam who are now sat on the couch. “He and I are okay, I think.”

“You’re positive?” Louis asks.

“Yes.” Zayn says automatically, with enough conviction that it startles even himself.

“Good.” Louis says, pressing his finger into Zayn’s chest. “Because if he hurts you again, I’m gonna _fuck. Him. Up_. Or get someone to help me, because he’s kind of...big.” Louis mumbles, peaking around Zayn’s shoulder to get a good look at Liam.

Zayn snorts, pulling Louis into an embrace. “Dude, I adore you.” He mumbles, pressing a kiss to Louis’ cheek, mentally congratulating himself when he feels Louis scoff in disgust. He knows it’s all a facade. “And thank you.” Zayn says a little quieter. “You took good care of me. You didn’t have to.”

“Yes I did.” Louis says, hugging Zayn a little tighter. “It makes me hurt seeing you hurt. And I couldn’t have let you make the place reek of pining and sadness. I live here too, mate.”

Zayn smiles when they pull away, before both of them school their overly sappy expressions altogether.

It’s later, when Niall’s over, and they’re all passing a bottle of pomegranate liquor between one another, that it dawns on Zayn how happy he is in that moment.

He tucks this feeling away, wanting to remember it later, if the balance between the five of them ever shatters again.

******************

**  
  
**

It’s almost a month later, only days before winter hols, and Zayn’s securing a scarf around his neck, squinting to read a text from Liam that lights up his phone screen.

It’s brief, but it fills his heart and his head with unreasonably mushy thoughts, and sends his stomach fluttering.

 

_"thinking of  u xx -L"_

He pockets his phone, pulls a pair of knit gloves over his slim fingers, and slips into boots that Zayn hates with a fucking passion, because even though they’re supposed to be built for snow and cold, his feet always freeze.

He steps outside for the first time that day, eyes crinkling around the corners at the sheer amount of glistening white that’s staring back, almost unbearably bright in relation to the grey of the sky.

His nose is already red with cold by the time he’s up and around the block, heading down into the inner city. According to weather reports, this was to be the worst snowstorm they’d seen in at least five years, but it meant that all of Zayn’s classes were cancelled, and he could catch up on all the homework he’d neglected without so much as a bother. The snow had only started early that morning, a light spattering of thick white puffs, and before anyone really took notice, there was a growing blanket of ivory over everything.

Louis and Harry were still loud as ever, but it was something Zayn could stomach now. For the most part.

He wouldn’t have to hear it anymore anyway. Very, very soon.

He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, feeling them go numb despite the thick wool of his gloves, licking his chapped lips as he trekked closer and closer into the inner city.

Despite the rampant storm, people were out and about like it was every other day. Children, with bright pink faces, just gleeful to be out of school; adults who, for once, weren’t in a hurry to be anywhere; everyday people, dressed colorfully in the winter clothes that had probably been neglected at the back of closets all year round.

There was something about snow days that made even Zayn, the most cynical of anyone he knew, secretly beaming on the inside. Happy memories of snow days from his childhood, probably, where he and his friends would sneak cigarettes by the frozen lake, or hole up inside all day and play video games.

He licked his lips again, steps becoming a little brisker when he caught sight of the construction zone up ahead. Lucky thing about snow days is that it put a stop to anything and everything.

He watched workers stand outside of the chain link fence, in their hard hats, and reflective jackets, cigarettes dangling between the lips of some, while others simply hugged puffy snow coats to their chests as they attempted to hail cabs that would never stop.

Zayn couldn’t help walking a little faster, and maybe it was fucking pathetic that he ached to see his boyfriend on a day like today, but he really did. Call him needy.

He searched every dirt- and sweat-stained face, and wonders if maybe he’s missed Liam already.

He goes completely rigid, however, when he feels arms wrap around his middle from behind, but he knows those arms, and he knows those lips when they press to his neck.

He spins around in Liam’s grip, eyes taking note of the rose red tint to the tip of Liam’s nose, and his chapped, candy floss lips.

“Afternoon, stranger.” Liam mumbles against his neck when he pulls him in to press his lips there.

Zayn winces when a snowflake decides to land directly into his eye, and he closes them to slide his hands into Liam’s jacket, letting his hands warm up on Liam’s feverish skin.

“Afternoon.” He agrees, ignoring the whistles they get from a few workers leaving the site.

He pulls back to look at Liam then, thumbing at the smudges of dirt on his face, wrinkling his nose down at the neon reflector jacket that Liam’s still got on. “This orange color is disgusting.”

“You get used to it.” Liam smiles, pressing a kiss to the bridge of Zayn’s nose. “C’mon. Take me home.” He groans, pulling out of their embrace. He hooks an arm through Zayn’s as they walk, huddled close for warmth.

“Speaking of home…” Zayn winces, “You might find that we’re missing a lot of plates. Mainly because I broke about ninety percent of them.”

He can’t help the nervous grin that stretches across his face, and mainly it’s just so amusing to watch Liam gawk at him in complete horror, lips stretched into an o shape.

“Please tell me you’re kidding.” Liam asks, although the tone of his voice implies that he already knows the answer.

“I’m a victim in this, I swear.” Zayn says, raising his free hand in his defense. “The box just kind of ripped at the bottom, and plates went everywhere. In lots of little pieces. I massacred the plates. If it makes you feel better though, I did get down on my hands and knees and cleaned it all up.”

“Oh my.” Liam sighed, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “You’re such a hazard. I _suppose_ I’ll forgive you. For now, that is.”

“Really?” Zayn snorted, “You’re that easy? I was gonna offer to get on my hands and knees for _you,_ but, now that I know I’m forgiven…”

“No, no, please. Don’t let me ruin your plans.” Liam turned to Zayn, smirking, before leaning in to peck his lips.

They continued on like this, before falling into an easy silence.

The last month had been a whirlwind. Not all of it good, but there wasn’t much bad either.

The worst was the beginning.

Some of Liam’s clients were especially bitter whenever Liam called to cancel, going on to let them know that he’d no longer be in service from then on. Some of them refused to let go at all, and there would be days where Liam would have to answer to at least ten to twenty calls. It got to a point where Liam had been pushed so far, that he “accidentally” dropped his mobile phone into a glass of beer. Niall’s glass of beer, to be specific. It had happened when the five of them had been out at a pub, and when it happened, the four of them could only stare at Liam, eyes wide. Liam, then, had only smiled over the lip of his glass, and continued on with their conversation as if nothing had happened at all.

Then there were the surprise client attacks, where the five of them would be out in public together, all forced to look on in awkward silences when an ex client would call out Liam’s name, and try to engage him in conversation like they were old friends. It made everyone just a little uncomfortable, Liam especially, judging by how quickly blood seemed to leave his face, and leave him pale.

After that, things began to calm down.

Liam focused on getting a job, and he happened to really enjoy working in construction, much to the surprise of both of them. It was also kind of a bonus to watch Liam’s muscles strain and bulge on the job, decorated in a nice sheen of sweat. Zayn continued his schooling while learning to juggle that, and now, a relationship, coming to find that he was kind of really bad at being in relationships. But they found a way to make things work.

They both hurried in their footsteps as they approached a building at the end of the block that went up for many stories, quickly making their way inside. They both nodded towards the man behind the desk that they never bothered learning the name of, and quickly ushered themselves into the elevator.

“You alright there?” Zayn asked, eyebrows pulling together in amusement when he noticed Liam adjusting himself, hand cupping the front of his jeans.

“Yeah, my balls are kind of freezing off, though.” Liam mumbled, nose scrunched up as the elevator rose higher and higher.

Zayn rolled his eyes, getting more and more eager to be out of this cramped metal box, and into the place they called home, now. _Their_ home. A nice little condo in the inner city, clean and close to the uni campus.

Zayn hands Liam the keys, eagerly slipping out of his boots as they spill inside, kicking the door shut behind them. There are still some boxes laying around, most of them unpacked, but neither of them can quite bring themselves to finish the job just yet.

The couch and the telly are all set up, though, and to Zayn, that’s all that really matters right then.

He tosses his leather jacket on the armchair, slinging his scarf over the telly screen, before collapsing on the cushions, groaning when he feels Liam crawl on top of him before collapsing.

“You’re fucking heavy, you animal.” Zayn wheezes, struggling to turn over under all of Liam’s weight and heavy tanned muscle, but when Liam finally allows him the room, he’s on his back with Liam’s face pressed into his neck.

They lay there for a little while, and Zayn feels overwhelmed.

He strokes his fingers up and down Liam’s back, shivering when he feels lips press just below his ear in a gentle kiss, before he’s whispering an, “I love you.”

Zayn stares up at the ceiling, taking heavy breaths now. “Say it again.”

He hears Liam laugh quietly against his neck, thinking back to every fight, every argument between them. He thinks of every kiss, every touch, every loving gesture. He thinks of Liam’s eyes illuminated by a street lamp; in that dim, dusky alley, where they first laid eyes on each other. A new face. A new love.

Maybe he says, “I love you” too much, and maybe he finds himself sketching that angular jaw line and that thin patchy stretch of stubble that scratches his chin every time they kiss far too often. Maybe he steals every touch, and savors every memory where Liam smiles the brightest.

Maybe he’s too attached.

And fuck, does it feel good.

Sure, they still argued at the worst of times, and held each other tightly at the best of them. They’re both cracked around the edges, with more flaws than either could count on a single hand, but they fit.

They love.

And the, “I love you,” that Liam whispers again is all that Zayn needs to know that this is forever. It’s a promise.

“I love you, too.” Zayn breathes, and brown eyes hold his.

He reaches down to grab hold of Liam’s hand, their fingers automatically falling into place, lacing together.

  
Zayn decides then that he's never letting go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, okay, I sincerely apologize if this ending totally sucked.
> 
> I did make a second tumblr though! So, if any of you want to pop in and say hello, or just send me some feedback there, I'm totally down with that. Just a warning though that I threw this account together in a couple of minutes, so it's really sloppy, and mismatched, and probably looks gross. And I completely understand if you choose not to follow me, since I post a lot of different things, mainly a lot of Halsey, ziam (which I'm pretty sure the majority of you like lol), orphan black, superheros, some different girl groups now and then, etc etc. So, I'm in total understanding if any of that sounds awful to you, but my inbox is open. I welcome feedback, critiques, suggestions for future fics, or if you just want to say hello.
> 
> http://fruityoatey-bahhh.tumblr.com/
> 
> Again, thank you all so much for reading, and for writing me such kind things. You're all the best <3 much love, and I hope to hear from you soon. xoxo


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